Close your eyes and picture this: a bright, blue, sunny sky dotted with white, fluffy clouds. There are huge, rolling hills all around you. Off in the distance, you can see clusters of trees surrounding an old yard site. If you look around you, you will be able to see Tipi rings from long ago scattered here and there. Now listen. It is silent. Well, nearly silent. The stirring of the native grasses and plants in the light breeze can be heard, along with the occasional interruption from a Meadow Lark`s song and the mooing of cow
This is what I call home. No, it is not four walls and a roof. No, there are not any windows, (although being here opens the window to my soul). It is probably different from what you consider home, but that is okay! Home is different to all of us. I am under the impression that a house is derived from four walls and a roof, but a home is so much more than that. A home is a feeling and it gives you (or me anyways) a true sense of belonging. A home is safe, and is something that nobody can ever take away. To others, this place that I call home might be just an insignificant piece of land, but to me, it is so much more than that.
This land represents my hard-working, settler ancestors who left their mark in the area for the future generations (like me) to thrive today. The struggles and hardships that my ancestors had to overcome makes me proud of who they were and who I am. I am amazed when I look back to see where they started, and how that evolved into today`s time and place. When I really think about it, this place has also allowed me to understand the truth and beauty of the hard work used to create this wonderful country we live in. It gives me a sense of belonging. It has shown me who I truly am. It has allowed me to connect to my roots, and see where I came from, and how I got here. Not only is it “my home” but it also has a small role in Canadian history. Not everyone can say that their home has this many credentials!
It is tranquil. It is peaceful. It is safe. It is infinite. It is my pasture that has been in my family for years; like an heirloom that cannot be broken, lost or forgotten; no matter what Mother Nature has in mind. All though it does have a market value, to me it is priceless. My home is like artwork- because, how can you put a price on feelings?