Dad has come home tired, hungry, just as we all are after a long day at school or completing routine house chores. Mom is still flipping the meat on the frying pan, as she tries to keep the hair and sweat off her face, while Lucy -our housekeeper for over 8 years- is mixing sugar and lime juice in a big jar of iced water. Dad settles in and in a blink of an eye appears sitting by the table, opening the brown paper bag to delight us all: freshly baked pan francés. I am sure his sleeves are still warm from holding the treasure from the car to the table.
That kind of bread only deserves the best, the prettiest and softest napkin set on the weaved bamboo basket, anxiously waiting to embrace all seven pieces… but the joy only lasts a moment. Dad, mom, Lucy, and all four children, are just as anxious as the towel. Soon it finds itself empty again, the bread is gone. And only hope, will keep it peacefully resting in the pantry, until the next time Dad walks in holding the newly born or fleshly baked bundle, in a brown paper bag.
© Irene Z, 2019.
Life in Canada, land of opportunity
One of my biggest dreams was to experience living alone in a faraway land, for a year or two – so I chose Canada.
The glass doors slid open at Toronto Pearson airport, unveiling a gloomy autumn afternoon back in 1999. I still remember the sound of the rain stomping its feet like an enthusiastic marching band welcoming me. My friend Nigel quickly loaded both our suitcases in the trunk of his mom’s white sedan.
Nigel did his mining engineering scholarship in the Mexican company I worked for over 10 years, and I will eternally thank his suggestion and encouragement to give Toronto a try. Unfortunately, I would only enjoy his company for the first few days of my arrival, since he had to go back to university in Montreal.
I had cheerfully planned this trip for a long time, yet I was still in shock, a bit panicky to realize there was no turning back…
I hoped for independence to grant me the strength I was searching for, away from home and my family. But the thought of being on my own for the next six months in this massive city, was indeed intimidating.
My brain was spinning around searching for answers and thinking of the limited cash in my bank account. Will I find a job? How soon will I get a place to stay? Where are North, South, West, and East again? But I was in a land of opportunity and I was determined to make it on my own, rain or shine.
That evening we went for a walk; or I should say, Nigel’s dog took us for a vigorous walk, and I began to fall in love with the beautiful, countless park trails. Soon enough my shoes were soaking wet – how I wished I was wearing rain boots!
I was lucky to witness so much in such little time: mesmerizing fall shades all around, playful squirrels, cute curious little chipmunks and the odd, perhaps hungry, feisty raccoon.
My next sightseeing tour was at Lake Ontario and its surroundings; kayaks, sailing boats, beach volleyball, coffee shops, roller skating, and music – Life was happening all in one place and in so many languages! My heart would feel specially comforted every time I heard Spanish in the distance. Just as comforted as I felt when I spotted a friendly taco vendor at the waterfront market. This was heaven on earth!
On the fourth day, my new pair of rain boots came in handy at the CNE, which also made me feel welcome with its loud crowds and buttery popcorn smell. Everything at Exhibition Place reminded me of my childhood Sundays; when my sisters and I anxiously lined up to ride the merry-go-round, or the swing ride at the local amusement park, while licking pink cotton candy off our sticky fingers. And for a moment, I wished I could be home, despite all economic and safety issues that have plagued Mexico. I also wished I had a rain coat, but it was all good once I had snacked on creamy hot poutine to warm me up, and later, a beer to cool down my fears.
Vacation mode was over, and I slowly settled in, socially and emotionally. The lonely nights watching rain, snow and clouds drifting by the window in my empty basement bachelor apartment, simply became peaceful and inspiring.
Opportunities are always there, if you persevere, and soon enough I was able to keep exploring without eating up all my savings, and having more than cereal, crackers, chick peas or tuna cans stashed in my kitchen cupboards. I got a retail job that allowed me to continue studying English, bookkeeping, and medical terminology. Shortly after, I found myself working at a downtown hospital.
Almost 18 years and one divorce later (no, I did not marry my good friend Nigel), I was driving back to Toronto from Ottawa. Exhausted but happy, my two precious children snuggled in the back of the car, after celebrating Canada’s 150 years, among family.
Meanwhile, I felt like every curve and every maple and oak tree standing majestically on the side of the road, seemed to mark a different stage in this fascinating and tempestuous journey.
Things finally seemed to be settled with my French-Canadian ex-husband… one of the reasons why two years became eighteen. I remembered that one time when my feet got so wet and cold… I took a deep breath, and suddenly I realized how even my heart always felt warm – despite the dark cold winter days.
I realized, we had made of Canada Home.
© Irene Zúñiga 2017