I typically stay pretty bright and I'm always excited about the future.
However little moments from my past make me extremely nostalgic.
This morning I was thinking of Canada, which I consider home, and I became very sad.
It's stupid, but I couldn't remember the name of the street I spent seven years of my life on.
The street with the gang house on it.
The street that had Americans, Chinese, Phillipinos, Metis, and First Nationers coexisting.
The street with the yellow victorian house on the corner.
The street that I dream of returning to...
Elgin Street.
My chest constricted and my heart hurt.
My eyes stung and my throat became thick with tears.
Am I really losing my past? My memory of my home.
I instantly began skimming through my mental roledex of memories.
The brilliant green and blue of the northern lights dancing in the sky,
the yaps of the scrawny dogs as they strain against their harnasses to start the race,
the myriad of cultures on display at the Folk-la-Rama,
the smell of "green coils" permeating the church service at camp,
the burning in my feet as my dad attempts to warm my frost bitten toes,
the tunnels and forts built in the snow....
I could go on.
Canada is a beautiful country that I yearn to return to at some point.
To satiate my desire I did what any tech saavy person would do...
I google mapped the homes I lived in and then looked at them in the "street mode"
Yes, I did feel like a stalker. It was totally worth it though.
Do any of you other missionary kids feel like this?
