I know. I know. It's been a while since I've sat down to blog. But, in the past month the Morrison family accomplished quite a bit. We sold our home, moved to a new community, I've started down a new career path (career might be a strong word) and best of all had a lot of company.
We love the new house, and so far the community has been very welcoming. I'll paint a simple picture of our little village for you. Two churches, one elementary school, a library, a rink, youth centre, grocery store, and a health centre. Then to top it off is the multipurpose gas station/Sears Outlet/hardware store/Beer Store/convenience store extravaganza!
And this is how we do business in Osgoode. We ordered a fire engine red lawn tractor from Sears. It arrived in a box at our local Sears Outlet. Chris went 'uptown' to pick it up. (For us, uptown can mean 2 minutes up Osgoode Main, or 30 minutes up the 417 to arrive in front of the Parliament Buildings.) The Sears guy handed Chris the tools to unpack the crate. Figuratively, the guy then took off his Sears hat and put on his gas station hat. Off he went to go pump gas. Full service in our village.
Chris pulled the wooden crate apart, put the tools on the convenience store counter, and rolled the tractor outside. After everyone had a look, and offered their comments about the deal he got, the horsepower, and the deck width he pushed it over to the pumps and filled it with gas. Someone ran in and grabbed some oil from the hardware store. Ready, set, go. He turned 'er over. Loud? Yes. Red? Oh, yes. He left it running, just to make sure there were no problems. Went inside to the Sears Outlet. Took care of the tractor. Moved on to pay for the gas. Finally to the hardware desk to pay for the oil.
Thank yous all around. And Chris jumped on his brand spanking new, fire engine red lawn tractor. Revved the engine, tipped his ball cap, and started out for home. The sun streamed through the hundred year old oaks that line Osgoode Main. The smell of fresh cut grass filled the air. Women with strollers waved from the sidewalk as he passed. Men tipped their hats from the seats of their trucks.
As Chris turned the corner, driving up our street, I watched him through our front window. I contemplated all the changes we've made over the past few months. The big decisions. The work and the worry. The kids broke my reverie with, "Can we go in the pool? Can we go for a swim? Please!" And my mind traveled back thirty years to a cozy house, with a sparkling pool in Nova Scotia. And I knew with certainty. Osgoode is where this family is meant to be. We're home.
