On growing up and being grown in Calgary, Alberta Canada

There is something indescribably special about being able to return to your childhood abode. I came home from the hospital here. I took my first steps. I poured my heart out in my diary here (more of that hilarity later). I fell in and out of love here.

So much has changed: renovations that completely altered the exterior, the yard is fuller, the basement more cluttered.

Yet somehow, my house is grander than ever before.

The kids and I have had a fabulous time in Calgary and next summer, I yearn to stay longer. As my parents grow older and my mom’s MS worsens, I’m reminded of the fragility of life. For the past couple of weeks, we relished every moment.

We dined daily on my parent’s fabulous patio (did I mention the even more fabulous 70-degree temperatures?)
Bonded with the cousins.
Call me crazy but I’m thinking this picture should be on an album cover somewhere.

Partied it up with my family for Bode’s 5th birthday and my sister-in-law Jane whipped up a fabulous gourmand dinner.

Though she doesn’t believe it, I *swear* Bode requested the $80 tenderloin that I just happen to crave all year long.

Took a memorable father-daughter bike ride through Fish Creek Provincial Park (Calgary’s largest urban park) whereupon my 70-year-old dad proves he’s still got it.

Translation: he still hauled butt up those hills.

The kids partied it up in the grandparent’s convertible PT Cruiser.

And yes, anyone who buys a convertible in Canada can only be deemed an optimist.

We built sandcastles at Lake Sikome with Grandpa.
Total bonus: My dad loves the water so I didn’t have to go near it.

Downed chi-chi coconut cones at iconic My Favorite Ice Cream Shoppe.

But it was when my neighbor’s grandchildren knocked on our door asking Hadley and Bode if they wanted to come play that my childhood memories washed over me like a tidal wave. I watched my kids ride bikes with their new friends, ride in my dad’s golf cart and play on the tire swing.

I was reminded of my dear friends and the hours we spent frolicking in the gully, mastering our skills on my trampoline, creating worlds in our fort and scaling our backyard tree.

My childhood wasn’t perfect but I was enveloped in the love of parents, grandparents and friends. The world was full of promise, possibilities, simplicity and joy. As a mom, I now recognize the many sacrifices my parents made for us. Out of my many hopes and dreams I have for my kids, in the end, the only thing that matters to me is for them to someday look back and say, “I had a happy childhood.”

Because that was the gift I was given.

Other Posts