We watched the parade go by as we ran past the different participants parked along the street waiting to start marching or driving. Sweet One seemed to think that you walk alongside the parade as we came to a stop just as the first few groups were starting to go. In a very contained way, Sweet One loved last year's parade and so we wanted to go again. This year the flag she was given was even bigger than before and so was her personal display of excitement. I marveled at each of her shouts of joy as all the various sections went by. Fifteen minutes that flew by much too quickly with fifteen minutes of screaming that followed from her disappointment that she couldn't follow and see more.
The holidays that mark important moments in this country's history are slowly becoming more of our celebrations, too. How could they not with two children who are American, as well as Canadian? As I watched my little poster child with her pigtails and flag in hand, I almost had to choke back tears. At first I thought this strange. Memorial Day isn't Canadian. It isn't my holiday. But in the end, regardless of what country I am in or whose holiday it is, recognizing the toll that war takes on soldiers, families and all the human race isn't something that needs to be categorized. And so I continued to watch my daughter as she delighted in what was passing in front of her, hoping desperately that by the time we have to explain what it all means perhaps wars would be stories of the past and not the present.