Home Again

Where are you headed?

Steinbach.

What is the purpose of your visit?

Visit family and friends.

How long will you be in Canada?

Coming back on Sunday.

How many times has this conversation taken place on a Friday night between the hours of midnight and 2 am at the Pembina border crossing? I don't even know anymore.

We've passed those well-thumbed passports into that little window what feels like about a kajillion times. No, no alcohol or tobacco. No, no firearms. Yes, some gifts. No, no large sums of money.

(Do we look like we carry large sums of money??)

When my coworkers ask about my weekend plans, they always shake their heads when I say "going to Canada." They're astonished that I would just head to another country while they're busy mowing lawns and getting groceries. They usually assume that I'm flying but then I say, nope, driving.

They all think I'm nuts, but we've done it so often that it doesn't seem like a huge deal anymore. Plus, it was all part of the deal when we moved.

There were two cities on the list of places where The Husband was allowed to look for work:  Winnipeg and Minneapolis. That's it. I was willing to move (kind of), but I was not willing to go beyond a day's drive from my peeps.

(Am I too old to say "peeps"? Too Menno? Too nerdy? Probably all of the above.)

Do I love driving for 7 hours? No. But do I love being able to surprise my mother-in-law for her birthday? Yup. Do I love hand-delivering my Mother's Day plant to my sweet momma? Yup.

Do I love knowing that if something bad happens, I can be there by the next morning? Definitely.

As much as we love living here, I don't think I'd love it quite so much if I felt far removed from my nearest (in spirit) and dearest. Driving 14 hours out of 48 hours so you can see your family for 10 of them? Perfectly sane. Moving to where seeing anyone that has known you since birth involves searching for seat sales? Now *that's * nuts.