The thought that my daughter missed out on the things I grew up with but also knowing that in some cases she had more experiences than I did make me happy and a bit sad. That her children have a wonderful mix of both of our experiences is even better. Memories are a powerful thing. Dream hopefully will make wonderful memories.


I went home this weekend, for the first time since Christmas. I didn’t realize how long it had been until I drove up, headlights bunching along dusty rez roads, and I saw my parent’s house come into view. Their vehicles were in the front, as well as my Uncle’s truck. The living room curtains were open, and I could see my Uncle sitting there, laughing with his head thrown back. Plaid jacket. Baseball cap. I knew there would be a coffee cup in hand.

I’ve been off-reserve since I was eighteen, on and off, and still – this is home.


Raising a child off-reserve, I often think about how she is going to walk through this world. Don’t get me wrong – all of what is currently known as Canada is Indigenous land. Growing up Urban will not and does not make her less Indian. I’m raising a Dene…

View original post 430 more words