My dad and I have both come a long way.
Then and now.
I thought such an important milestone deserved the landscape to go with it.
My dad and I have both come a long way.
Then and now.
I thought such an important milestone deserved the landscape to go with it.
There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There’s a land — oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back — and I will.
—Robert W. Service
Then and now.
My dad and I have both come a long way. I thought such an important milestone deserved the landscape to go with it.
Land of the midnight sun.
June was the perfect time to visit.
I’m thankful I got to celebrate June 5th in a miraculous place.
I wanted to shout it from the rooftops – 20 years baby!
I spent the actual morning of the 5th, standing on a suspension bridge, overlooking a place called Miles Canyon. The day was a perfect temperature for me, wind and sun, blowing my hair all around and warming my face.
I thought about where I would have been, exactly twenty years earlier. I was so glad to have that hospital and those doctors then. I was so blessed to have all those years of a dialysis free life, thanks to my father. I was lucky to spend that moment, twenty years on, up on that bridge.
I’m thankful for a truly eye opening week.
I thought the Yukon seemed so far out of the way of most of the rest of Canada and thought of it a little bit like the Canada of Canada.
By that, I mean that in North America, to me at least at times, Canada goes somewhat unnoticed or under appreciated by the United States and such. We are here but can feel invisible. We are a small world player, in many ways, not making a whole lot of noise or commotion, but that’s how we prefer it to be. We are here and we are strong.
Then there is a part of Canada that is tucked away, far from what a lot of the gathered population ever sees. I wanted to go out and find this place.
By the end of my time there, I’d learned so much and was blown away by all of it. I heard stories of the people who have lived in that climate (months of mostly all light and then months of continuous darkness) for years upon years. I learned about myself and what travel can mean to me, through seeing places of intense and immense beauty, while not actually getting to experience the spectacular visuals of the north.
I missed out on a to, but I gained so so much.
I’m thankful I had the chance to see a part of my country of Canada, far far from my place in it.
I have never traveled out west through Canada before, spending most of my time in the central part, the middle area, always curious about what lay in all that northern part. As we flew, I heard about the Rockies as we passed over them.
Though I could not see the snow capped peaks, I felt such a deep sense of wonder as we headed for the west coast. My country is so vast and amazing.
I’m thankful for pilots.
I am somewhat anxious when flying, but it is a true miracle that a plane can even get up in the air, let alone stay up there and take people so far across the skies.
I hear their announcements on the speaker and they sound like they know what they are doing. I hope, every time I fly, that that is the case.
I really did enjoy my experience flying WestJet.
I’m thankful for local tour guides.
Big bus tours can be fun, like the one I was on in Ireland, but this time we had a smaller and more personal experience with a local tour company I’d highly recommend.
They have had it in the family for 100 years and the woman in charge and her employees (one being her daughter) are highly knowledgeable about the region and so very proud of their homeland. They know about the environment, the terrain, and the people. They are Yukoners, through and through..
I’m thankful for the chance to learn about culture and nature.
I could smell the wet wood as they worked, using a tool called an adze. They had to keep the wood moist so it wouldn’t cracked as they worked on it. They only had it dug out a tiny amount, with a lot of hours of work still left to go.
It is one of several cultural events and demonstrations happening, there at the riverside, sponsored by the Canadian government and Canada 150 in 2017.
I missed the bright colours of the water. I missed the white caps of snow atop the mountains in the distance. I missed the severe cliffs and vistas.
I smelled the fresh Yukon air. I felt the wind. I instinctually detected the wide open spaces. I listened to the ripples at the lake’s edge. I compared the silences to the sounds of rapids far down below.
I felt it all in my bones.
I’m thankful for the kindness of strangers while traveling.
I started the trip being given someone else’s seat on the shuttle bus to the terminal and I ended it with a generous gesture by a flight attendant.
When she learned I hadn’t known I had to download a certain update on my phone, one that would be able to work with the inflight entertainment system, she offered tablets (free of their rental charge) so we could watch a movie on the four hour flight.
I watched Beauty and the Beast, the 2017 live action version that I’d been wanting to see since it came out back in March.
Also, there was the politeness of many I met while there, the polite drivers letting me cross streets, and the woman at the glass blowing factory who showed me around and was so helpful.
I’m thankful my mom and I weren’t eaten by bears.
We stayed down at the roadside, overlooking the lake, while the rest of the group walked a bit up the mountain. They were going up some to get a better look, but it was the two of us that got the show.
My mom was taking a panoramic shot with her camera when she suddenly told me of the mother bear and her cub only forty or so feet down from where we stood. She got a few pictures and then couldn’t see where they went. It was at that moment that she grew nervous and we were glad to have the unlocked van to retreat into, until she spotted the pair once more, making their way along the edge of the water, far off into the distance.
This was a good thing in my mind, as I couldn’t remember what action to take when approached by a grizzly bear vs a black bear.
Was I to play dead or fight back? I’d probably just fall to the ground and curl up into a ball either way.
I’m thankful for the comforts of home after being away from it.
I could choose to feel all down and depressed that I had to leave a place I may never return to or a city I felt at home in, or I could be glad to have my own things back.
I both love going out into the world and exploring what else exists, but I will always love having a home to come back to.
Just hearing a little baby crying on the plane coming home made me miss my baby niece.
I’m thankful for family and neighbours who agree to watch my dog and check on my cat while I explore the world.
I love to travel, but having pets makes that difficult. My dog is very attached to me and my cat is not one of those cats that likes his solitude.
I don’t like to put it on my family to take care of my animals, those I chose to have, just so I can run off galavanting. It’s just that I do feel the pull to wander sometimes, though I try to space it out somewhat. It is a responsibility on them when I dump my dog at their house, but I know our family looks out for each other. We help one another out when and where we can. I would do the same for them.
I’m thankful I got to see my nephew’s baseball game.
He is still learning (Lucky Number 13) and yet he may grow to love it. Only time will tell. They are all so cute though. The coaches and volunteer parents have quite the time, wrangling all those kids, shouting instructions to run or catch or pay attention. They are distracted easily and I can’t blame them. A lot going on.
It was just strange to return to the neighbourhood park where the game was being played. I hadn’t been there in years, but sitting on that bench, by that baseball diamond, it brought back a lot of memories of summer days long gone.
My sister and brother both played in leagues and we’d go to their games often. My favourite part was the snack bar, but being back there now made me remember old times, old friends, and things that felt forever ago, compared to the life I am living in 2017 and my transplant anniversary is a part of that.
“Forever can spare a minute.”
—Belle, Beauty and the Beast 2017
“Ever just the same. Ever a surprise. Ever as before and ever just as sure as the sun will rise.”
—Tale As Old As Time, Beauty and the Beast
The people of the Yukon know the sun will rise again. It’s just a question of when and for how long.
Goodbye April. Hello May.
I thought I never would. I completed my first year of
The A to Z Challenge
throughout everyday of the month of April.
I first learned about it shortly after starting my blog, but the particulars sounded hellish to me.
Could I blog everyday? Did I even want to blog everyday?
I went for it on a whim and may never do it again. I went with the simplest of possible themes and that was the theme of randomness. I wrote about things that say something about myself, as the one with this blog. That’s it. No more. No less.
So to sum it all up, for those who couldn’t follow along with what I was doing, or as a handy place to see all 26 days of posts, here it is:
Where would I be without it? I also happen to love apples, the fruit, as a bonus.
I’m breaking supposed rules early on with this one. I’m on a roll.
Happy to be home here.
A family connection that spans the years.
How many R’s in that word? When is the right time to get a piercing? Hmm.
I’m giving it my all.
It makes my life better. How you ask?
Cue the quote about those who forget the past…
Cheery topic and just out of reach.
I’m not odd for wanting to touch one, right?
Love to love them.
Yes, I am writing about laundry. Hold onto your hats.
M is for Marine Biology
Problem is, I’m afraid of water and I am bad at science.
Diets don’t work, right?
My home province is a lovely one.
It makes perfect. I need to practice practicing.
It’s a trap we all risk falling into. We’d better watch our step.
Sometimes I like to break them. Find out why and how.
I mark a day of marches and those smarter than I am, doing good for us all.
Very little else is guaranteed in this life.
We all do it. Check out why I think about this bodily function more than many.
The love of my life.
I want to disappear into the pages of a book.
I needed one and this seemed as good as any.
Check out why I could really use it.
Deciding to check this one adventure off my bucket list.
And there you have it. From the mundane to the strange. This is what I am all about.
“No matter what happens, people need to get their stories out. Sometimes I think this is my life’s work: bearing witness, and helping others to bear witness. Bear witness, expel torment, see the red cardinal in the bare tree.”
One of my favourite writers, Canadian writers, and she speaks on what my writing mentor told me, as I grew more comfortable with my own writer status.
We who write, who call ourselves writers live as such. We are constantly observing the world around us, to write it all down when the time is right.
This week’s TToT is a little or a lot muddled all-over-the-place, kind of like my own life right now.
I am thankful for the chance to see myself in the media.
Check out this commercial. This girl has a YouTube channel and she is a public speaker, on Canadian television.
I believe it is important that the world sees that beauty and these products mean just as much to those of us living with a disability in the world.
I am thankful I could help my sister.
She has stuff to do to get ready for a friend’s wedding next month and she finds it hard to get a lot of it done at home, as she always becomes distracted by stuff that needs to get done around her house.
At mine, I could hold the baby and she could work. Not a bad deal.
I am thankful for yet another helpful violin lesson.
I picked up the second line to Minuet 3 easier than I thought. I really do love this song.
It did require me to use my fourth finger, which is not strong at all. It is difficult to stretch a fourth on the string.
I am thankful for a lovely Easter surprise from my friendly new neighbour.
I was not expecting the gesture of beautifully wrapped chocolates, in tissue paper, with a bow.
She wrote a lovely note with it.
I am thankful for another enlightening episode of Anne.
This one revealed more about characters like Gilbert. This is better than I could have imagined. I love knowing more about people, even fictional people.
I am thankful for the beautifully written verbal audio descriptions on several Canadian television channels, like the CBC when I’m trying to watch an Anne episode.
“The Woman is elegantly dressed and has a kind face.”
I am thankful Canada got something before the U.S. for a change.
Yeah, I said it.
I didn’t realize this one is the same one premiering on Netflix soon.
Either way, it should appear first on Canadian television, as it is our story after all.
I am thankful for women in history who made Canada better.
A novel idea for the 19th century: women are capable of talking about serious issues – Who is Kit?
I am thankful I could find out that there seems to be no problem with my plans to try zip lining.
My fear was that they would be hesitant to let anyone try it who is blind. So far, according to the woman I spoke to and her manager, if I will be with a group it shouldn’t be an issue.
I am thankful for the rain and for the warming April weather.
Spring is in the air and you can feel it.
I am thankful for Easter chocolate.
I don’t know what I think about religion. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the world powers, drunk on their desperation for even more. I don’t know what I am doing in my own life even.
I do know I am thankful.
Nope. Even though the title of today’s post might suggest I have forgotten what letter we are at with this April challenge, I assure you that I haven’t.
I heard it on a series about Canada and I thought it makes the point.
That famous quote:
“Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it”
I believe that wholeheartedly. I don’t ignore. I listen and I learn.
A lot of history is bullets and bones. Wars seem to be all we talk about when we speak of historical events and the bones of those who have gone before us, who lost lives, they are everywhere.
The series I was watching spoke of the War of 1812 and the battles between the United States and the Canada that wasn’t quite Canada yet, but a colony of Great Britain. So much colonialism throughout history.
What year did Canada become its own country?
I am a big history buff. I focus on wars too, though I despise them and all they have ever been about.
I do not like to refer to the United States of America because I do not approve of how the country started, by actively attempting to take the entire continent of North America for themselves. They wanted what is now Canada, the Canada that I love. Sure, when I listen and learn about that war, one often neglected, I think of what would have happened if the U.S. had won the war. What would be, where my country now lies?
The U.S. wanted all the land. They fought British and Natives, in what is now the Detroit and Windsor area, Niagara, Toronto, and all along borders we now hold dear.
There were battles fought where the capital city of Toronto now sits. We don’t now realize. Bones are buried there.
There has been remembrance ceremonies here in Canada and over in France. April 9th, 1917 was the start of the Battle of Vimy Ridge. And 100 years on. That, it is said, is where young Canada became a country, but fierce debate about just whose war they were fighting caused great tensions between French and English-speaking Canadians at the time, a set of tensions that still exists, in some ways, today.
Many died and were wounded for that fighting. I don’t look fondly on such a thing, but I try to respect the lives that were lost. Many bodies buried in fields in northern France. I am emotional about history. I don’t know any other way.
***This is my first year of joining the A to Z Challenge and so I’ve decided to post randomly, as a way for new visitors to my blog to get to know me a little better. I look forward to discovering some interesting new blogs too.
My home town is a place where many were born and raised and never leave. A lot of home towns are that way I hear. They are known as traps where people become stuck.
I gravitate toward the things in my life that are comfortable, yet I long for adventure. What does that say about me, despite the fact that I know I’ve never been good at making up my mind on anything of any real substance.
I didn’t have a childhood in a town. I grew up out in the countryside. This meant fresh air (often tinged with cow waste scent on the air) and only a distant rushing/roaring/humming sound of a highway, other than the two lane one we lived on. Our back yard faced out onto fields and open space.
The trip into town was reserved for grocery shopping and visiting people. Later on that included high school. I liked our little nearby home town. It had everything I could have wanted, or most of it.
I wasn’t living next to a particularly diverse town though. Agriculture surrounded it. I drifted in and out of it. Now I live there.
I like my house in my town, but I may not be living here for many more years. Houses and towns are never a sure thing, nor permanent residence guaranteed therein.
I know those who have left and they don’t regret their decision. Visits are just as good. I travel to the big places, cities that I feel suffocated by, but it’s only to visit, for a short time. Then I slip back into my comfortable routine. Smaller is better, but bigger is where all the action is.
I am never perfectly comfortable, it seems, no matter where I am. Where I’ll end up, I cannot say.
I am tied here, to the memories made with those who have long since left, and my town echoes with their ghostly impressions. I am left there to fill some sort of a void they’ve left behind.
I still don’t know where I fit in.
This has been a
Finish the Sentence Friday
and a last minute, Sunday kind of a FTSF post.
I didn’t do it when all the other girls were doing it.
Was I afraid it would hurt?
My sister wanted her ears pierced and our parents got them pierced for her, for her tenth birthday. I remember sitting beside her, in that chair, thinking there was no way.
I am two years younger. Two years later, I chose a McDonald’s birthday party instead.
I couldn’t possibly be afraid of the pain, or was I?
Just a few more years and I had to face any fear of pain, fear of needles, as I was required to have a lot of them. A diagnosis for how sick I felt was badly needed. Blood tests (needles) confirmed the suspected diagnosis of kidney failure.
I would soon have many scars, including the scar tissue in my arms, from the needles.
I had no choice but to face my fears. In my early twenties I finally decided I should get my ears pierced.
I’d been gifted a pair of heart earrings, one day, while I sat at dialysis, by a favourite nurse. I could not wear them.
For years I liked to play with those stick on earrings, but one day I decided it was time, far passed time, and off I went.
Did I need to enter a medical crisis, in order to be forced to face my fears, before I could risk the pain of having holes punched in my earlobes?
I love my pierced ears now. They allow me to walk around with a little bit of adornment and ornament, as I am not usually a jewelry and accessories kind of a girl.
***This is my first year of joining the A to Z Challenge and so I’ve decided to post randomly, as a way for new visitors to my blog to get to know me a little better.