By Nomadic Grace
only 34 days until my flight and Before I leave for New Zealand, I’ve been soaking up as many moments of home as I can—quiet ones, unexpected ones, and, as it turns out, the kind that come with feedback channels and mic checks.
This Canada Day, I spent the day helping my dad with his performances. We DJ’d two community events—one in our hometown park, and another on a stage set up for the fireworks in a nearby town. It was my first time ever using his sound mixing board. I didn’t know what half the buttons did, but I figured it out as I went. That seemed to be the theme of the day.
What surprised me was how differently people treated me once I was standing behind that board. Suddenly I was the person with answers—or at least the person people *thought* had answers. I was just trying to make sure I didn’t unmute something at the wrong time or blow out a speaker, but people came up like I had insider knowledge. It gave me this strange sense of authority and access I wasn’t used to. The board became a kind of passport to a different version of myself—one that had to respond, adapt, and show up in real time.
The evening event was even more intense. There were live performers, which meant swapping mics, adjusting lines, and reacting quickly to cues I barely understood. A lot of the time I just nodded and hoped for the best. Somehow, things held together.
There were so many moments that made the stress worth it:
– Two teenagers from the local arts center each got up and sang solo. Their voices were steady, their presence quiet but strong. You could feel how much they had practiced and how seriously they took the moment.
– A group of Highland dancers, ranging from tiny kids to teens, performed a series of choreographed numbers. Their coach stood next to me the entire time, cueing songs and whispering little things like, “Watch this—she always forgets this bit,” or “That one’s going to smile when she gets nervous here.” She was right every time. You could tell she loved them, and they adored her right back.
– A teenage girl performed a beautiful Indian dance, then invited the crowd to follow along with a few basic steps. Later, a Zumba instructor took the stage and led everyone—from toddlers to seniors—through a couple of high-energy routines. Watching an entire town wobble in imperfect unison to upbeat Latin music was pure joy.
Of course, my dad’s band closed out the night with Canadian classics. I was still behind the board, still guessing half the time, still balancing levels while the sky started to light up with fireworks behind us.
I didn’t expect Canada Day to be about growth. But in the mess and movement and background noise, I found myself stretching in small ways. said yes to things I didn’t know how to do. I listened hard, paid attention and I adjusted. I got to see a side of my community that reminded me what it feels like to belong—not just to a place, but to a moment.
