Canada Day In The Columbia Valley

​​I arrived home today at 12:55 AM. It is Canada Day and has been for 55 minutes. I rushed home so I could tell you about what I saw, what I felt, and how blessed I feel, right in this moment. Now that I am here, sitting in front of my fire, gazing at the white of the screen; I grasp for words that are eluding me.

The summer of 2015; the fires are burning in Saskatchewan, Greece is temper tantruming its way out of the EU, Iran is silently begging to have an equal existence in the 21st century, and Isis is doing God only knows what. Amidst all of this I found my truth again, if only for a fleeting moment. It was absolutely splendid. It is something nameless, only found in between the lines of prose, and caught in the echoes of our traditional songs and anthems. It is what young men and woman over the last century have fought and yes died to protect. Often these days we can get caught up in the world, in this global society we have created but for just a moment, I was Canadian, and I remembered just how marvelous a thing that is to be.

Today was the day before Canada Day. A day I am proud to share with my ancestors that have passed, and with my cumulative self of the present. Today, I finished work and was thinking that the Fire Works would be tomorrow evening, on the actual date of the holiday. But the Columbia Valley knew best, and welcomed it in with a bang. I was wrong and thankfully one of the ladies at work gently corrected me.

Not words and not even a feeling can explain the importance of what Canada Day means to me, and how important I felt it was for me to be there. I felt this magnetic pull to be perched upon a rocky knawel above Lake Windermere watching Canada in all its glory perform for the local spectators. It could possibly have been because somewhere along the way I had lost my truth. Not the truth of my story but the passion and the love that I have for that story. For The Story Of Us. For all that we have given, all that we have lost, but most importantly for all that we have received. My truth was there, and I am grateful I got to join it, if only for a moment. It was hidden in the clouds, dodging through the raindrops, screaming in the fireworks, and thundering in the lightning.

It was an evening that reminded me of the passion my mother had. The passion she had not only for her country, for her history; but the passion she had for me as well, once a long long time ago.

Canada Day reminds me of the integrity my grandfather worked with, every time he reached out to pull a board, or measure a timber. Canada Day reminds me of all of the shared opinions that my father's mother put out to the world through writ, and voice, trying to make this a fair and just country. It reminds me that no matter what, I am so very proud, grateful, and most of all blessed to be a Canadian. Proud and grateful to have the history, the culture, and to have grown up surrounded by people that loved each other and this country.

I zoomed home to quickly change after work. I had a couple of hours to meander about. The fireworks were not too begin until the strike of midnight. I put on a long black summer dress, spaghetti straps, and long to my ankles. Little did I know what lay ahead. I drove back into town. There I promptly found myself an Americano, at Gerry’s Gelatos and nestled myself on the highest perch above the lake behind the arena.

I was about a half hour early, and there were not too many people about. A young man was climbing on an Inuk Shuck which his mother promptly informed him was a piece of art and he was to get off of it immediately. A command he promptly and respectfully obeyed. Darkness had finally fallen for real; not that greyness between day and night, but the thickness of black that lets you know the day has truly left you; and behind me the thunder rolled.

When you hear thunder off in the distance it is not rolling, when you feel it in your soul, is when it rolls. And the thunder at my back was rolling over the Purcells to the West of The Lake.

Do you ever look around and feel like you have stepped into a painting or a movie. All of a sudden I was there, in the movie. That was what it felt like, surreal.

With the thunder echoing in my belly, I thought I saw lightning in the hills to the West of us. The full moon was to the south, and just east of my perch lay the lake, covered in boats. The fireworks site much to my surprise, and pleasure was located right below me, by about 100 meters, on the shores of the Lake. I could not have set the stage better myself. Full moon, clear skies, thunder rolling at my back and the lake full of the lights of the boats below. And the people began to gather.

As I settled in the mood slowly changed. The air became electric, and not from the people but from the weather. The thunder began to spark. Lightning to the west flashed vividly, and the thunder was reverberating from my toes to my scalp, causing a tingling and a calming effect over my body all at once. Eventually the flashes, became actual lightning forks up in the mountains behind me, not far from where I was sitting. The weather was still warm and dry but to say the least it was becoming muggy and very buggy.

Five minutes to twelve. As if the curtain was raised on the stage, and the first act began, the midnight train rolled by. It was between the Fireworks site and the lake. If I had yelled out, and the train had been silent the conductor would have replied, “How could you ask for more, Olivia!” And I would have replied, “I could not!”. The beauty, the pain, the pleasure, and the joy of the world, I felt it all, if only for a moment, sat with me. I was so not alone, and it was so sumptuous.

I sipped my coffee, and waited. The train thrummed by. More and more people began to gather. Again I realised how blessed I was; lucky, grateful, and most importantly, aware. What a wonderful combination.

The train goes by, act one is over; leaving us in awe of one of Canada's most significant historical bridges, the bridge that connected a continent. The train alone with the weather was a mighty salute to Canada that evening.

Act Two then began and was determined to not be shown up by Act One.

Clouds are rolling in, and a newly arrived cloud shaped like Vancouver Island, my home of origin, covers the full moon. The moon and I have had a funny relationship. Somewhat like its relationship with the tides. Not always agreeing but still fighting to find a harmony that will feed and nurture what matters to us. The North Island, the part of the cloud, just blotted the moon right out, in the sky that is.

Now as the trains final cars chug by we are in a true darkness. Mother Nature's fireworks flash at my back, the lightning, sending that grey white light ricocheting off the mountains on the other side of Windermere Lake. The last train car passes and although there are people around me speaking, the silence is deafening. Only for a moment. The first fireworks explode. The Fireworks went on for 15 minutes. Maximum 20, and what a show it was. It could have been shorter, but thank goodness, the Universe moved slowly so that I could enjoy every moment; every bang, every pop, the smell of ignition, the wind, the rain and the lightning.

The crew that put it together did it with thought, and artistic style. They never could have gotten more finesse in their composition without the help from Mother Nature.

I forgot to mention the people in the boats. The brave ones stayed for ten minutes of The Fireworks. Initially they all thought they had it the best, bobbing on the surf, ready to watch the show. Well...they were wrong. I am also sure that the fire crews standing by, waiting for the desert like landscape to erupt into flames might also think me a tad off, in my delirium of the evening, but I stand by what I am saying.

Five minutes into the choreography the wind started to pick up. Ten minutes in, the rain was falling in away that you could only enjoy if you new that true tenderness and passion is rarely gentle. The rain biting at my arms, the wind pulling at my hair, and lifting the water drops to a 45 degree range. The lightning was the backdrop to a fantastic arrangement.

At about the 12 minute mark I realised that most of the boats had retreated and many of the people around me had disappeared, and I was so grateful to be sitting there enjoying the show, alone. No one was left but me. The freedom to just be here, to be there, to be me, anywhere. Although the elements were biting and pulling at me, I felt so safe, if only just for a moment. Safe in my story, nestled into the Columbia Valley where man and nature come together. They came together tonight in a fantastic show to welcome in yet one more Canada Day.

In writing this tonight I wanted to explain something to you that is something my grandparents gave to me, and their grandparents gave to them. Something that has been passed down in my family for many many many generations. It feels almost impossible. The words, the correct words have possibly evaded me, but maybe if only for a moment you felt it. I hope so. It is all I have to give you, all that I have left, a feeling.

Perhaps it is fatigue or weariness from the road.

Regardless I have shared with you the best I could, my gratitude, and my joy, for the opportunity I was given when born into this life. I am blessed and all I hope for all of us this evening is that somehow somewhere you feel the same. Life is not always easy, but right in this moment, right now, it is good, and right now is all that matters.

I have so much more to say, but it is getting late so I think I will leave it there for now.

Happy Birthday Canada, and many thanks to the Columbia Valley for allowing me to make this my home for the while that I may stay. I am truly grateful to be a Canadian today and a temporary resident of this Valley.

What a show!