The life I would lead, the traveling would never stop. Being somewhere else is always on my mind. I don’t like the getting there, I love the being. The culture of the place.
I was home last weekend. This weekend in Montreal, visiting family and celebrating my grandmothers 90th birthday. Can you imagine living 90 years? I’m proud of her.
Driving in tonight, there was a little trepidation showing up to a distant cousins (but close friends) – we were going to be late, we were going to miss dinner. Would all be well? But every time we arrive we are welcomed with open arms. I wish it was always like this. Even the language barrier is disregarded, it’s actually fun. I can work on my affected Frenglish and enjoy the Montreal sourced snacks. Brie and red wine and locally grown strawberries. C’est bon, eh?
You grow up and you learn, no matter how aggravating your family is, how annoying or how much they get under your skin… You have to sit back and be happy, to smile, because they’re yours and even though the years go on there are some things that, despite the effort you put in to forget or ignore, don’t change. I’d cheers to that.