08/29/2026
I am 17 in the first photo. I had just landed in Canada and shortly after I turned 18. And now, almost exactly a lifetime later, I am watching my firstborn do the same.
I don’t think my parents could have known how much my move would impact them. And in letting me leave, they gave me space to create a life of my own.
They trusted me into my own path
And now I find myself standing where they once stood.
Letting my firstborn go.
Trusting that what we have given him is enough to carry with him, while knowing that his life is becoming his own.
When I first arrived in Canada, I had a host family. Except they didn’t stay a host family for very long.
They became family.
A home away from home. Our lives wove together in ways none of us could have known then. Their children became people I loved like my own, and somehow, across years and countries and all the ways life moves us forward, that belonging remained.
And now I understand that gift differently. Because this time, I am the mother whose child is far away.
There are people who hold the coffee warm.
Who make the bed ready.
Who open the door and make room for your child when you cannot be there to do it yourself.
Maybe this is one of the ways love travels.
My parents loved me enough to let me go.
Others loved me enough to give me another place to belong.
And now I get to do the same for my firstborn.
To let him go, without letting go of him.
To trust him into his own life.
There is something incredibly tender about watching him begin where, in so many ways, I began too ❤️