We have had the most ridiculous month. The usual things (sick kids) plus a few less usual things (broken finger, bad back) were put into perspective when we got an early morning call from the mister’s family in the UK: his dad passed away.
This is a first for both of us; all other parents are alive and well. Talking to friends, we’ve found they all realized the same two things after someone they cared about died: Death is inevitable; and, life is short, so live well. The Mister realized one more thing: it’s hard to live a continent away from family at times like this.
We talked about moving back to Wales, to spend time with the Mister’s mom and sisters, and their families. We decided we could (will one day) do it, but just for one year. Because even now — or maybe now more than ever — we know this place is home. It’s because of weekends like this last one.
On Saturday, I was driving to teafarm but ended up at Saison. Driving along a sunny Herd Road, I was lost in thought (I was trying to figure out what to wear to my book-launch party. There is no book; I was just day-dreaming). I snapped out of it as I turned up Saison’s driveway. “Ah well,” I said to my little-human posse in the back, “it would be rude if we didn’t stop in for a cinnamon bun.” So we did. Just one, shared among three of us, plus some green eggs for Sunday’s lunch.
Next stop was a quick-but-delightful visit with Victor at teafarm before making our way back home along the ups and dips of Richard’s Trail, with Cowichan Valley farmland rolling by. “This must be one of the most beautiful places in the world,” I said to anyone in the van who cared. It wasn’t said in a bragging-to-friends-in-Alberta kind of way (though given their -30 temperatures this weekend…). It was a statement of fact. Our landscape is so varied and so rich. It must be up there on the most-beautiful list.
We are surrounded by friendship and beauty. While it’s hard to be away from family right now, this is home.