My husband and I just returned from vacationing in Canada. We visited with our children and grandchildren, and then took a road trip to Saskatchewan. I grew up in Saskatchewan and was excited to return to the place I have called “home” for most of my life!
One day we travelled to the small hamlet where my mom grew up. The tiny house has been gutted but we went inside and looked around anyway. I was stunned with how small the space was and thought of my grandma raising three rambunctious children in that house. Amazing.
On our journey we also drove past a road signs pointing to towns where members of my birth-family came from. At one time, after I learned where my birth-mother and birth-father had lived, I was curious about these places and wanted to go there just to see what they were like. Both of my birth-parents passed away many years ago but I wondered if I would feel any connection to where they had lived.
This time I was struck with how little desire I have to go to these places. When I think of “home” I think of towns and cities where I grew up and where my parents grew up. If it’s true that home is where the heart is, then my home most definitely is in the small prairie towns that my adoptive family originated from.