It happened innocently enough. I was getting ready for bed and for some reason, as I closed my eyes, I did the math. The answer – thirteen years.
My eyes flew open! In a mere thirteen years, I will be SEVENTY YEARS OLD.
Now, I will admit, I am still young enough at 57 to think 70 is old BUT talk about eye-opening (literally and figuratively). You see, I have shared for YEARS that I do what I do so that my grandchildren won’t have to, that if I can move the reconciliation needle forward, they will not have to do the work.
And my little excursion into the world of arithmetic reminded me that we don’t have forever to get this done.
So, my friend, today join me. Let’s do this for the kids that didn’t get to go home. For the kids who shouldn’t have been taken in the first place. For the elders who still cannot stand to even think about where they were sent. For all the youth followed in stores, assumed to be criminals. For all the women assumed to be consumable, an assumption solely based on the tint of their skin. For young parents judged, for children lost, even for all the affluent Indigenous, assumed to have achieved via ill means … let’s do this.
Before more pass on.
Before more grow tired.
Before more began to fear … that it will never change.
The journey continues …
I love you!