Easter Retreat - Calgary, Alberta (3)

When it’s spring time in the Rockies,
I am coming back to you.
Little sweetheart of the mountain,
With your bonnie eyes so blue.
Once again I say I love you,
Little birds sing all the day.
When it’s spring time in the Rockies
In the Rockies far away.

From the top of Mount Norquay (one of the Rocky Mountain peaks), Granduncle and I sang this song together. When granduncle first migrated to Canada, he brought along his young family, with his son barely five. As a young family, they visited the Rockies quite a few times, and every time they went, he would sing this song with his son. Tears welled up in his eyes as granduncle sang the song; I knew he missed not only the good old days, but also his wife and son who were no longer by his side.

As we sang this song, in front of us was the grandeur of the Rockies, with Mt Cascade directly facing us. The snow-tipped grayish Rockies, seemed to merge with the light blue sky and white clouds, the mountain-town of Banff right at the foot of the mountain seemed straight out of a postcard, emerging the dark green of the fir woods, and next to it was the beautiful Bow River (flowing all the way from Calgary), reflecting its turquoise beauty. The most beautiful sight on earth, possibly. And next to us, barely a few metres away, was a herd of fourteen White Mountain goats. Such exuberance, such excitement, such exhilaration, such poignancy, such loneliness. Granduncle sang a track from “Sound of the Wind” and a line resonated in my mind, “I come to the hills when I am lonely”. I sang as loud as I could, hoping my presence next to him, could take away the momentary feeling of solitude he felt.

But deep within me, there was quite a whirlpool of emotions as well. I felt sad that I would never be able to share such a moment with my mother and possibly a few other loved ones, and I missed all their presence, but at the same time, there was quite a burning resolve within me that the next time granduncle and I came to this very spot, our family would be as large as the herd of mountain goats. And we would set up picnic mats and mahjong tables, the children would run around being chased by the mountain goats, my siblings and our spouses would prepare the food, and the older generation would sit back, and simply talk about the good old days. There would be not one less. And while the picture would never be complete without mamee, I have not and will never give up drawing the picture still.

Possibly the next strongest emotions I felt during the visit to Banff was the visit to the Banff Springs Hotel, which sits like a Disneyland castle amongst the Rockies. Built in the early 1900s, it started off as a dream holiday for the rich and wealthy from Europe. As granduncle and I walked around the hotel, he remarked he was glad that he had the opportunity to walk around what used to be reserved for the richest only. Deep in me, I felt even more than that. As we stood on the deck of the mountain, and gazed into the horizon, and the swimming pool beneath us, I felt very lucky again. I am not rich, but from what I had, I had carved out memory after memory, moment after moment, that only the wealthiest could claim. And yet, I did not crave it at all. I could afford to stay at Banff Springs Hotel for a night or two, but I did not want to stay for any longer. I could walk into a casino in Niagara Falls and walk out five hundred USD richer much to the amazement of Yizhuan, but I did not crave more and more money. All I ever dreamt for, was moments and memories, and I know, I am so lucky that I have experienced so many of these dreams. Maybe that is why I never envied the rich, because the iron they had, I had too, in gold. If only, such moments I could share with so many of you.