Soft Canadian Landing

I look at Canadian skies and see November sun, orange, purple clouds, birds gliding. They breathe peace. The idea of a missile passing overhead absolutely unimaginable. No helicopters other than for traffic, hospitals or Niagara Falls views.

I travel through Canadian airports and see the whole world, at work and on the move. Diverse, decent, dedicated. Not a machine gun in sight, no intimidating stares into the soul, outward or in.

I walk Canadian streets and people say hello, and excuse me, and thank you, and, of course, sorry. A lightness of being in the freshness of air. Crunchy fallen leaves underfoot and smiles on young and old alike. No default defensiveness, agression crackling at the surface, obvious reason for concern.

I like being here. I like being of this place. I like it more and more every step.

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