First Day as a Canadian

I am twelve all over again. That excited and yet scared feeling you get that makes you want to jump around the room and at the same time run away from the room because it is not a place for you, a kid. I am walking into a meeting quietly behind my mother. My mother is nowhere in the room and I am not twelve but I flash back to those times when I would go with my mother to a meeting where everyone was glad to see me but knew I was just a living ornament for my mother to show off. I know that this group does not feel that way about me but it doesn't matter because I feel that way. My Good Friend introduces me to the group warmly and everyone says hello to me but no sound escapes my lips, only a small smile and nod. We begin and I start to feel more at ease because I know a little about what is being talked about but still distant because I don't know what my role is yet in that dialog. The meeting ends faster and slower than I feel it should. Some of the people chat with me and seem really interested in who I am and express their excitement in having me work with them. I leave with the clear knowledge that I am no longer an ornament. I am Ornament Placer in Training. I walk away knowing that that room will be the same but will look completely different the next time I walk into it.