My home and native land…
That’s the second line after: “Oh, Canada.”
My old anthem.
That and: “God save the queen.” Which I never quite understood. Why would any God save the queen before me and my friends? Clearly, we were way cooler.
I just realized something you guys. I’ve lived in Florida longer than I lived in Vancouver.
Holy shit! I’m freakin’ getting old.
But worse than that is this; I say “y’all,” more than “eh.”
I’m scared now. I’ve always been an American. But I could always default to Canadian when the need arose.
Like in Mexico along the hippy trail when Americans were uncouth and rude.
Or when I visited friends and family back home and could slip into the lingo with ease.
No, no, they’d argue. She’s from Canada, eh? She just LIVES in Florida because she likes citrus and Mickey.
Don’t you want to come back some day? Don’t you miss home?
Hmmm…great question. Because my home is where my heart is.
Oh, God. With age must come lame sayings.
I miss it, yeah. I love Vancouver and will always remember it as the most beautiful place in this whole, wide world.
But I guess there’s beauty here, too.
There must be, because I know there are roots here that love me, that need me and would miss me.
I stand on guard for thee.
That’s fairly beautiful, eh, y’all?