Coming Home

Monday, October 23, 2006 ~ Champlain, New York

I feel a certain apprehension as I approach the border crossing at Champlain. The last time I crossed into the U.S., at Baudette, Minnesota nine and a half years ago, I looked suspicious enough to warrant an hour-plus vehicle search.

A few years later my U.S. green card application was nearly turned down because my then-wife lacked sufficient income to act as my financial sponsor.

So, despite my valid green card and Canadian passport, not to mention the New Mexico plates on my car, I'm a bit nervous during the 15-minute wait.

But like the crossing into Canada last week, this one involves little more than a few questions and a document and trunk check. Before I know it I'm through.

Before I even have a chance to acknowledge the return to miles, gallons and greenbacks, a little voice whispers in my ear: Welcome home.

I feel a catch in my throat, a welling up of emotion.

And surprise.

Yes, the U.S. is now my home and this is a powerful acknowledgment of my connection with the land here.

But it's more than that. By revisiting my past and freeing my ghosts, I'm more at home within myself. Truly, there's no better place to come home to.