It’s Canada Day.
This year it seems a little more patriotic than usual. Could be because most of us are still riding high from the Olympics. I no longer have to go searching my wardrobe for the right shade of red… I have it. Although, despite the chilly day, I steadfastly refuse to wear the red and white mittens.
Today, I’m pondering what it means to be Canadian.
There is no flag flying from my front porch, although there is one on my suitcase. I don’t have to shout out to the world that I am Canadian, it’s in the way I speak, the politeness I show (not to be confused with being a doormat) and if the commercials are to be believed, in the beer I drink.
The past two years have been a challenge for me on many fronts. Most would have been devastating had I lived in another country. I have friends with a very sick little girl in hospital, the medical bills would be impossible if they lived south of the border. My parents have retired and have a good life, thanks to living here.
I’ve driven across the country from the Atlantic to the Pacific. I’ve travelled extensively through the Maritime Provinces and driven up through BC through the Southern part of the Yukon. I’ve traveled abroad to see how other folks live. Each trip makes me even more proud to be a Canadian.
Happy Birthday Canada!