When we moved to Toronto three years ago, we came thinking only of impermanence. Three years, and then a return to the house and the church and the people we knew. But soon after we came (or if not soon, at the end of our first year here), we began to wish to stay. We considered the idea of making Toronto home.
I think a lot about the word. Home. I even wonder if it will be the subject of my next book. So many of my deepest longings and desires find their way here, to home, to the solid things, to permanence and its place. I could wonder why this pull is so strong in me. Or, I could agree that this desire is fundamental to what it means to be human.
On our way home from Washington, D.C. last week, our family was listening to an audio version of Gary Paulsen’s, Hatchet. It’s a wonderful story, and it opens with Brian Robeson staring out of the window of a small plane. Brian’s parents have recently divorced, and he is flying to see his father who works in the Canadian oil fields.