Muddy Walks

We have been going on a lot of muddy walks these days with our little guy and I’ve realised that I am now another step closer to understanding my own mother. You see, she was born and raised in Jamaica, left in her early twenties arriving in Canada for a new life. When I was growing up I understood that almost all of the opportunities, activities and events that I was fortunate to experience were all new to my mom. She didn’t grow up shovelling snow, going to dance lessons, cheerleading or having a paper route. Growing up in the countryside in Jamaica, having left school at an early age she had a very different upbringing but I can remember the smile, the joy she found in taking us ice skating, or having a snow fight or barbecuing hamburgers on national holidays. Now here I am with my five year old in country where I didn’t grow up doing all sorts of things that I know nothing about. Like muddy walks. Who walks around in the mud on purpose? Middle class British people do, and they do it in style. Wellie boots, waterproof trousers for their kids and dogs everywhere! I was squelching my way through the forest with my boys smiling at the thought that this was how my mom might have felt with me in the snow. Glorious.