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Where The Heart Is

July 17, 2011

We recently returned from almost two weeks away in our hometown of Montreal (hence the two inches of dust gathering on the blog as of late).

We disconnected like we haven’t in a long while. To avoid the insanity of international roaming charges, skater hubs and I simply left our iPhones off, and checked in with email and social networking twice per day, morning and evening.

And that was it.

You can lift your jaw off the floor now.

It was lovely.

It allowed us to soak up the local, European-influenced culture that we miss so much. It allowed me to eat poutine without my PointsPlus calculator at the ready. It allowed me to focus on my kids and every little aspect of their day, good or bad, like I honestly haven’t in a very long while.

We spent time with friends that we haven’t spoken to in months. The kind of friends where it always feels like you saw them just yesterday. The kind of friends who your kids turn to like they are family, even if they hardly know them, simply because they see how comfortable you are surrounded by them. The kind of friends where you start drinking wine at noon and keep on going until midnight, just because.

And at the end of the twelve days, our cheeks hurting from endless laughter, our cameras stocked with memories, our bodies bitten to the bone by those damn mosquito bites, we started to pack up for the long journey back to California. We said our goodbyes, we promised to speak more often, we kissed the kids and the expectant bellies. And we realized…

Sometimes home is not where the heart is.

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