My husband, Troy, flew out to Alberta this week to pick up our camper trailer and a truck to pull it. He’ll be driving back across a wide swath of Canada to bring it back home. It’s not an unfamiliar drive for us. Over the years of military life, we’ve made longer drives, often with three kids smooshed into our backseat, as we moved from base to base starting new lives in new places with our family the only thing known and familiar to us.
Now, my husband will make that trip alone, bringing back a camper trailer and I’m still not sure how in the world we ended up in a place in our lives where being mobile was a necessity. My whole life I have moved and moved again. I have started new schools regularly. Made new friends. Moved and did it all over again. I have gone where the army told me to and then did it again with my husband and children. And all that time I ached for stability. I went to farms to buy our food and marvelled at people that lived with roots growing from their feet. They knew their neighbours and