I've spent most of my life saying that I didn't "grow up any where, I grew up every where" due to in a large part to the fact that I had lived in 4 differen provinces by the time I turned 12. But I as sit and reflect on the fact that I'm once again leaving you I have to admit, you. are. home.
I use to envy my husband because he had one place that was his concrete hometown. He lived, worked, went to school and breathed that town his entire life. Sure he got out of there as fast as humanly possible when he turned 18 with the intention of never going back to stay. But he still had a place to call home. I see the peace and joy on his face as we turn off the highway onto the gravel road he's traveled down for almost 30 years towards the house he grew up in and the farmland he explored and played on. I realize now, I've always had a place to call home, I just never actually thought about it.
You are my place of little moments. People watching at the Forks. Breakfast on a patio in the Exchange. Beer on a different patio in a different part of the Exchange. Frisbee at Assiniboine Park. The Witch's House. The word "Trashcona". Garbage hill.
Where else can I say the word "jambuster" and have people know that it's a jelly doughnut first and a derby name second? Slurpee capital of the world! Smog free existance. Home of a Chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff. The only place in the world where I can rub Mr. Eaton's foot for good luck.
I know we haven't always had the best relationship. I remember at 15 declaring I hated it here after my family moved back. In my defense, I was 15, I hated everything. I know I have complained about your winters, your summers, your construction, your potholes that could swallow RVs whole. Your icy sidewalks, your cyclists, your lack of an Ikea and the fact that people park in the loading zone for hours in front of my apartment. But there is so much good in you that I am more than willing to overlook the bad.
I promise, I will always find my way home.
A Prairie Girl