Journey Into The Next Chapter

We awoke before daybreak.

“Vibe check”, I asked, and she replied, “Vibin’!”

“How about I take the first shift?” she offered.

“Do you know where you’re going?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Ok then; you take the wheel.”

And with that, the car packed and coffee supply confirmed, our 4,089 km road trip began.

I drove with my daughter across the country as she began her formal post-secondary education adventure in British Columbia.  She, my third and last-born child, chose not to go straight to university after finishing high school, taking a couple years to work instead. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up, it was more what she did know, and she wasn’t ready to spend another four consecutive years in an academic setting.

I’m certain I was not her first choice as co-pilot, but others were either already working, wrapping up summer jobs, or getting their own back-to-school in order. Having bid them, her brothers, and her father goodbye, we put the car in gear.

Proverbial buckets of rain were falling on Eastern Ontario as we departed but the dark and dismal day could match our spirits which were upbeat, and caffeine fuelled. Canada is beautiful but also incredibly vast. It would take us two full days of driving 10+ hours for us to even get out of our home province of Ontario. The plan was for five days of driving – some camping, some hotelling, and lots of time to meander off the TransCanada Highway occasionally to take in some local highlights.

When a middle-age woman and twenty-year-old sit in a car for over forty hours, the conversations can vary from relationships, racism, feminism, climate change, pandemic realities, dismantling the patriarchy, food, and MacGyvering privacy for roadside pee breaks.

There were also extended periods of silence owing to contemplative music, audiobooks, sleep, admiration of the scenery, and the occasional mild hostility. To say this trip was cathartic for my daughter would be an overstatement.  For me, however, it was transformational.

Must every woman of a certain age contemplate the empty-nest syndrome? Beside me sat my daughter heading off to university but also a symbol of my life’s investment: diapers, daycare, Disney movies, chicken fingers, minor hockey, nagging, drama, teenage angst, and all the chronic fatigue and endless – often baseless – worrying that goes with being a mother.

It was time to “… let us see how the little man does flying solo?” (and the answer to this I already knew given her two exciting and successful gap years, but let’s also all pause here and acknowledge that parenting advice given by Crush is totally righteous).

All mothers know that motherhood doesn’t end when your offspring leave home but there was a distinct shift in The Force for me during this trip. I dreaded how I would feel leaving her after a surprisingly carefree and happy summer spent together during a pandemic that has been nothing short of horrifying.

Yet with each provincial crossing my anxiety melted, and excitement rose. I began to ponder and plan my own new adventures in my own new reality. I found myself revising my previous ‘empty nest to-do lists’ that included world travel and daring feats of bravery and independence, and consider realistic domestic adventures, virtual learning, community service, and deeper connections with my closest family and friends.  Ah, enlightenment with a healthy dose of wisdom and perspective (and pandemic restrictions).

Over the six days we spent together, we went from talking about the next four years, to the next four months, to the next 4 weeks, to the next four minutes.  It’s hard to put into words what we both experienced along those four thousand kilometres, but it wasn’t simply geography.

When you see me next, don’t be afraid to ask, “Vibe check?” and don’t be surprised if I answer, “Vibin’!”

~~ Astra