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Jul. 1st, 2014 04:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariI posted this not too long ago, but for Canada Day, I wanted to repost it:
The Day I Became a Canadian.
My main in moving to the Pacific Northwest was to eventually marry my soon to be fiancee. The plan was to move from Texas in 2008, stay in Seattle for a year to determine if Emily and I were compatible, then marry and begin immigration proceedings. With a few bumps and bruises, the plan went as planned. I was in Canada constantly, visiting with her, and friends. But mostly with her, learning the ins and outs of what would be my new home. I loved being there, and looked forward to when it would be my new home
In early 2010, Emily had surgery, and then developed a massive infection. She was incommunicado for some time (she had her phone but the charge died very quickly) leading me and all her friends to worry. She managed to get a quick call out to a friend to let everyone know where she is. Once I got the news, I drove (despite a falling apart pickup) straight there.
I was by her side for the whole day. As it got close to dinner time, she asked me to run some errands for her, things that hadn't been done in the week or two since she'd been admitted. She needed her phone charge, a brush, drop off some bills. I said yes.
So I left the hospital, proceeded to run to her house, grab her charger, some nick knacks and came back with some Chinese food thinking she'd be bored with the bland hospital fare. I stayed until visiting hours were over, and left. I stayed at her place that night, .did her dishes, cleaned out the fridge. Basically, kept house. I kind of considered it "our" house as well -she was my fiancee, and she needed (and would need) help. I slept there last night.
I went back to the hospital the next day, and stayed with her all day. I wanted to stay longer, but I was coming up against a work day, and, being ill for a lot of the 2009 winter, I couldn't afford anymore demerits. When visiting hours were over, I left and, with a wad of Canadian cash in my wallet (I always had about $100 put away, even when I wasn't in Canada), I bought her some groceries so they'd be waiting for her, bought some for myself, and went to Tim Horton's so I could bring back snacks to my Seattle family.
And I realized I was a Canadian. This was, quite literally, the first time I'd been in Canada, on my own. Spending Canadian money, going to Canadian groceries. Living in our Canadian house. No one here knew I was a Texan. I was just like any other Canadian. I not only could do this. I could do it well. And this could be my future.
I went to Tim Horton's to get my Seattle family their required tribute of a dozen Tim Horton's donuts. I went in and made an order. And I asked "Y'all have cream filled, by any chance?"
"YOU'RE NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YOU?"
I'd said "y'all." They'd immediately realized it. My cover was blown. I wasn't Canadian. I was American. Worse, I was from The South.
It was nice while it lasted, though.
We had a quick conversation about the people on the American $1 coins, and I headed on my way home.
Sadly that was my last trip to Canada. Hoping to go back one day....I really do miss Vancouver.
Posted via LjBeetle
The Day I Became a Canadian.
My main in moving to the Pacific Northwest was to eventually marry my soon to be fiancee. The plan was to move from Texas in 2008, stay in Seattle for a year to determine if Emily and I were compatible, then marry and begin immigration proceedings. With a few bumps and bruises, the plan went as planned. I was in Canada constantly, visiting with her, and friends. But mostly with her, learning the ins and outs of what would be my new home. I loved being there, and looked forward to when it would be my new home
In early 2010, Emily had surgery, and then developed a massive infection. She was incommunicado for some time (she had her phone but the charge died very quickly) leading me and all her friends to worry. She managed to get a quick call out to a friend to let everyone know where she is. Once I got the news, I drove (despite a falling apart pickup) straight there.
I was by her side for the whole day. As it got close to dinner time, she asked me to run some errands for her, things that hadn't been done in the week or two since she'd been admitted. She needed her phone charge, a brush, drop off some bills. I said yes.
So I left the hospital, proceeded to run to her house, grab her charger, some nick knacks and came back with some Chinese food thinking she'd be bored with the bland hospital fare. I stayed until visiting hours were over, and left. I stayed at her place that night, .did her dishes, cleaned out the fridge. Basically, kept house. I kind of considered it "our" house as well -she was my fiancee, and she needed (and would need) help. I slept there last night.
I went back to the hospital the next day, and stayed with her all day. I wanted to stay longer, but I was coming up against a work day, and, being ill for a lot of the 2009 winter, I couldn't afford anymore demerits. When visiting hours were over, I left and, with a wad of Canadian cash in my wallet (I always had about $100 put away, even when I wasn't in Canada), I bought her some groceries so they'd be waiting for her, bought some for myself, and went to Tim Horton's so I could bring back snacks to my Seattle family.
And I realized I was a Canadian. This was, quite literally, the first time I'd been in Canada, on my own. Spending Canadian money, going to Canadian groceries. Living in our Canadian house. No one here knew I was a Texan. I was just like any other Canadian. I not only could do this. I could do it well. And this could be my future.
I went to Tim Horton's to get my Seattle family their required tribute of a dozen Tim Horton's donuts. I went in and made an order. And I asked "Y'all have cream filled, by any chance?"
"YOU'RE NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YOU?"
I'd said "y'all." They'd immediately realized it. My cover was blown. I wasn't Canadian. I was American. Worse, I was from The South.
It was nice while it lasted, though.
We had a quick conversation about the people on the American $1 coins, and I headed on my way home.
Sadly that was my last trip to Canada. Hoping to go back one day....I really do miss Vancouver.
Posted via LjBeetle
