When you’re living in a big city, it’s easy to space out and not pay attention to the little things happening around you.
One day, when I was living in Halifax, a little boy’s giggle caught my attention. He was playing with his dad at the bus stop. It was cold and dark, and several dozen people were impatiently waiting for their ride.
But the father-son duo seemed oblivious to time, to the cold and to the impatience the rest of us were feeling.
I got on the bus with them – a family of four, including a little girl in a stroller.
This little girl made eyes at everyone on the bus. She smiled coyly, she shared her plastic toys and she charmed everyone.
I was distracted, though, by her parents’ expressions. They seemed so full of joy at the simple interactions their daughter was having with the other passengers. They seemed content, and really, truly, happy.
The scene is hard to forget. After sharing the bus with them for 15 minutes, we parted ways without having spoken a word. I’m quite sure, actually, that English wasn’t their first language.
I’m also quite sure that they weren’t born in Halifax.
In my imagination, this family overcame untold struggles to get to safety, to get to Canada, and once there, they appreciated every small joy and every beautiful moment that much more.
In my imagination, these happy family members were refugees.
The Northeast has the potential to provide safety, refuge and happiness to a family like this one. Our communities have proven time and time again that they’re generous and welcoming.
What are we waiting for?
