“So, today is Canada Day?” my daughter asked.

“Um hum,” I said, looking and the clock and calculating. It’s July 1st here, but ten p.m., on June 30th in Ontario.

“And Canada is 150 years old?” Excitement built with each word.

“Yeah.”

I wanted to join in her excitement but felt so removed from the celebration. I wouldn’t have even known Canada reached the big 1-5-0 if my mom hadn’t mentioned it in a recent e-mail. Since then I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to answer her question – are we doing something special? All I want is to take my kids to The Square and watch the parade, then before dusk descend the hill, carve out a space on the beach, and wait in anticipation for the fireworks, as I did as a child.

I want to pass on the wonder of my childhood.

I try to explain this desire to people. They respond by saying, “But think of all the experiences your kids are having.” And I do. I am thankful for each one. Climbing The Great Wall with my kids was amazing, but it couldn’t satisfy my need to lead them jumping from rock to rock at the Goderich harbour, while watching ships disappear in the distance on the expanse of the lake, as I did as a child.

I loved my childhood home, and it was that lake, that seemed to stretch into eternity, that called me to explore. Having followed that call means my kids will never see the world as I did.

So here I am – it’s Canada Day morning and I am missing my home country more than ever.

Brian is at work (July 1st isn’t a stat holiday in China) and I am trying to figure out how to make this day special for my children, who are Canadian by name, not by experience.

There will be no parade, no fireworks, no getting together with other Canadian kids – there aren’t any around. How can I help my kids identify with who they are as Canadians, when their experience is China?

We’ll find a way. This outside-of-the-box life never lacks creativity. Maybe we’ll play a board game this afternoon and then when Brian gets home we’ll watch a slideshow of our last trip to Canada. Whatever we do, I know we’ll be together – that’s how we function, which reminds me, not of the frenzied pace I now witness when I visit Canada – families dropping one child off at once place, the next at another – but of my own childhood, years ago, in small town Canada.