10/29/2025
🌲 Alberta and the Great Wilderness Pact — An Allegory
In the sprawling house of Confederation, Alberta was the child of fire and grit. She spoke in the language of rivers and rigs, her boots always muddy, her voice edged with wind. While her siblings debated policy over porcelain teacups, Alberta stared out the window toward the mountains, longing for something older, wilder, freer.
One day, after another dinner where her voice was drowned out by Ontario’s spreadsheets and Quebec’s sonnets, Alberta stood up, slung her satchel over her shoulder, and said:
“I’m not just leaving. I’m founding my own embassy—in the wilderness.”
She walked out—not in anger, but in resolve. Past the fence line, beyond the last pipeline, into the great wilderness where the stars still spoke in silence. She built a fire. She hunted her own meals. She carved a shelter from spruce and stone. And for a time, she felt sovereign.
But the wilderness was not a parliament. It did not negotiate trade deals or print currency. It did not build hospitals or regulate airspace. Alberta found herself bartering with passing traders, patching her boots with borrowed thread, and wondering if sovereignty meant solitude.
One night, as the northern lights danced overhead, Alberta lit a signal fire. Not a cry for help—but a call for dialogue. Back at the house, her siblings saw the glow and paused. Maybe it was time to redraw the map. Not to lure Alberta back with toys and allowances, but to meet her at the edge of the wilderness and ask:
“What pact shall we make, together?”
