Last year, my mom decided to accept an invitation to spend Christmas in Canada. She felt it might be her last year to summon the strength to deal with the airlines during a holiday season.
And sure enough, her flight was cancelled, a day was lost and her back brace set off every security alarm. All that was forgotten when she arrived at Vancouver’s airport, hours late, but warmly welcomed by a Canadian family, whose Matriarch had gone to school with Mom since grade 2.
There were hugs and kisses and non-stop chatter, catching up with family news during the long drive through that great northern city to a distant suburban home of her friends. This is a neighborhood where bear shave been known to saunter down the street or prowl through the garden with a pair of cubs in tow. No wonder the BEAR PATROL number is kept by the phone.
Mom had forgotten just how cold it gets up north and was secretly glad she’d brought no tennis shoes and therefore couldn’t join the disciplined Canadians on their daily walk. However, her friend presented her with a pair of Nikes and the walks began – rain or shine! Luckily it did not snow.
There were visits and family dinners in cozy, decorated homes, grandchildren, friends, neighbors, dogs and horses to meet, lunches out and quiet evenings knitting in the den with the fireplace aglow.
Son’s, nieces and nephews arrived, more eats, carols sung, old-times recalled and of course, hockey endlessly discussed!
Mom finally got her requested window seat on her flight home and got an incredible view of Vancouver, surrounded by waterways and snow-capped mountains. It’s a sight she’ll never forget.
She’s glad she went, but she’s spending Christmas with us this year.
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