I have been in Yellowknife for seven years. Cape Breton is the only place I've lived for a longer period.
I came to the city a single 22-year-old girl, to start my first real job after university. I married from here (though in Cape Breton). I had all three of my babies here. Hubby and I bought our first home here. We built a family here, of friends from work and church, adding people as they came, letting them go when they moved.
Yesterday was my last Christmas in Yellowknife.
We did all the things we usually do at Christmas, our traditions: The Christmas sing-a-long at the Landrys; Mass on Christmas Eve; Christmas morning at our house, followed by Christmas dinner at the Paquins.
The Paquins are more than friends. Gail and Gilles have been, in many ways, our Christian role models and parents ever since we arrived. Gail and I met at a church meeting, and just clicked. Gail was my Confirmation sponsor. I often introduce her as my "spiritual mom." My children call her Grandma Gail.
Sitting at the Paquins long and full dining table, all six of their children home for the holidays, praying and eating and laughing together, was almost too much for me this year. As each moment passed, I said good-bye to them. Good-bye to the table groaning with dishes. Good-bye to the sound of 16 people enjoying the food and each other. Good-bye to our traditional dessert of dozens and dozens of Christmas cookies I bake each year. To everyone mooning over my latest baby, how sweet and small and charming on his or her first Christmas.
From the time I turned 16, I've been a wanderer. I thought Yellowknife was just another desitination, a stopping place where I rested for awhile. Now I realize that this little city perched on the edge of a sub-Arctic lake is my home.
I don't know how I'm going to leave come spring.
No comments:
Post a Comment