Ordinary Angels

There is often a moment when we settle into a place and have that first, relaxing meal and drink, and a feeling of contentment comes over me. Ah, the vacation has begun. I can put my cares away for a while.

An Ah Moment at the Olde Angel Inn

This summer, that moment arrived over a meal at the Olde Angel Inn in Niagara-on-the-Lake. The pub, one of Ontario's oldest establishments, and the picturesque town around it, were recommendations from our Canadian hosts, Mark and Lynn, who seemed like angels themselves.

They'd given us pointers on the Niagara area before we made our way to their home in Orillia. Although we had fully expected to take a bus to their home, Mark and Lynn had picked us up from our Buffalo hotel, driven us over the border, and delivered us to the car they were letting us use for the trip. They had even thrown in maps and car snacks for the road. That's just how they are.

Sitting in that charming old pub with an ale in hand, I was so happy to be there. We hadn't been at all certain the trip would happen. It had been a challenging year.

A Hard Year

Mark and Lynn had stayed at our second home, our Florida beach retreat, back in February, escaping the snow for a couple of weeks. My dad, who lived nearby, had been dealing with a long-term illness. I had spent most of the holidays looking in on him while he moved between the hospital and a rehabilitation center.

He came home in January, but partway through Mark and Lynn's visit, he took a turn for the worse and went onto hospice care at home. On their last Sunday with us, we took a break from caring for him and met them at Boondocks on the Halifax River, a favorite restaurant of ours, and theirs too, it turned out, from decades of visiting the area. It was a bright spot in a tough day, laughing with this funny, engaging couple.

My dad passed away two days later. When I let Mark and Lynn know, they didn't just send condolences. They sent a card with a "pocket angel," a little token with a message of hope tucked inside.

In between everything that comes with a loved one's passing, I started planning the summer trip to Canada anyway. I confirmed the dates, bought the tickets. It felt like exactly what we needed. I had no idea the year still had more in store.

One Thing After Another

A month after my dad's passing, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. One Friday I was handling his affairs, and the next I was undergoing a biopsy. Sometimes life is just like that. All you can do is walk through the door in front of you. The next few months were a blur of diagnostic tests, surgery, and recovery. That pocket angel traveled with me to the hospital on the toughest day.

Luckily for me, the cancer wasn't aggressive and had been caught early. My outlook was good, but there were still weeks of daily radiation ahead. When I did the math, I realized treatment would run right up against our travel dates. I told my doctor about our plans, and the medical center worked around it, fitting me into whatever slots they had until a regular time opened up. I stayed focused on healing and on my job, and held onto having something to look forward to. I finished treatment two days before we flew out.

The Trip

So that "Ah" moment at the Olde Angel Inn was sweeter than most. The next day, on a boat out toward Niagara Falls, I let the spray, and the light rain, wash the worry off me. From there we made our way to Orillia: forest hikes, bike rides along the lakeshore, a farmer's market in Gravenhurst, an afternoon at a proper Canadian Great Lakes beach. In Toronto, we wandered the Royal Ontario Museum and marvelled at the dinosaurs.

"Tree hearts": Heart-shaped mushrooms on the Track and Tower Trail in Algonquin Provincial Park

We ate our way through butter tarts, wild blueberries, poutine, and some very good Korean and Thai food. And after months of being told to stay out of the water, a plunge into Lake Huron felt like a small triumph.

Most of what we did that week was perfectly ordinary. It was still one of the most relaxing summer vacations we've ever had. Sometimes travel, and the kindness of near-strangers, can work its own kind of miracle. 🏡