Little House On The Prairie

Manitoba and Saskatchewan, CanadaI was born and raised in the prairies of Canada, in a city famous for writers and hockey and snow. By the time I was 18, I had left, never to live there again, never planning on living there again. And yet, of course, there are things I miss, things I get nostalgic for in the evenings or on lonely days. I think of driving the old ’68 Skylark down the highway, on the way to the restaurant with the best hot dogs and milkshakes in the province. I think of the calm summer days, sitting on the dock that we had on the Red River, waving to boats that went by. I think of honking geese and endless skies and the loudest thunderstorms I have ever heard. I think of playing basketball with my little brother, watching late-night movies with my big sister, bookstores with my mom and music stores with my dad; I think of my family before we spread ourselves out all over the world.

I think of the prairies and sometimes (sometimes) there’s nowhere I’d rather be.