My grandmother used to talk endlessly of the old country. Her beautiful house, her St. Bernard dogs, hiding in the forest to escape the Germans …
When my grandparents and father came to Canada as refugees, fleeing authoritarian communism, life was hard. Yet their struggle mirrors the tens of millions of other refugees in the 20th century — working tirelessly to establish themselves, overcoming trauma and teaching themselves new customs. Now, my children and I are proud Canadians. The old country is just a memory of a memory, mostly captured in my grandmother’s cabbage rolls. Our lives are here now.
