The moving truck was a beast with a steering wheel so large that it made me feel like a child. I could see over it — barely. My toes could reach the brake and accelerator, not the floor.
The rain fell in sheets. Oh the joys of parenthood.
When my husband’s job was relocated to Calgary, our child was entering her second year at U Ottawa. “She’s not being left behind. It’s a five-hour flight instead of a five-hour drive,” my husband reminded me.
“I’m good, Mum. After this year, I’ll be doing co-op jobs in the summer. I’ve got this.”
We made a commitment to her: “If you want to come home, we’ll fly you. If you need us, we’ll come to you.”
To demonstrate this, I booked plane tickets as soon as I heard she planned to move apartments. Though, if I'm being honest, it was as much to ease the ache in my own heart as to help her.
It was a complicated move: the kids had to vacate their apartment at the end of the month, but couldn’t move into their new apartment until the next day.
The plan: load the truck, park it overnight and move in the next day. They saved $40 by picking up the truck at 5:00 pm. Why pay a full day’s rental when they could load in the evening?
I bit my tongue and reminded myself not to be a critical mother, but I was concerned. Things can go wrong.
And they did. When we showed up to the rental office, there was no truck. It had not been returned. No smaller truck, not even a minivan was available. One option was offered: “I can give you a 26 foot truck right now. It’s yours if you want it.”
I hesitated. There was a distant rumble of thunder.
“You drove a tractor as a kid…” my daughter reminded me.
I smiled at her weakly. Parenting her has been a joy, and a challenge. I called her my Border Collie kid: if we kept her busy she was wonderful. If not, she chewed the furniture.
She has always kept me on my toes, but she’s 19 years old now. I sighed and thought, “I’m getting too old for this.”
But parenting is about being a role model, overcoming fear. Like a recent birthday card I got: “Sometimes you’ve got to put on your big girl boots and prove that you can use the pointy end.”
So I agreed. I was going to kick that beast of a truck to the curb and tame it. How could I expect my daughter to manage, if I couldn’t step up? I’m an Albertan now, so let’s “giddy up.”
But as I hauled myself up into that beast, I noted that 26 feet was bigger than I realized - wider than her street. The rain started. I checked my mirrors, turned to my daughter and quietly said, “Fuckin’ hell, Eliyah.”
So much for being a good role model. She looked over and grinned.
Five hours later, we were wet, tired and hungry. But my adrenaline was running high.
The loading was the hard part. I managed to back into the driveway — a 10-point turn — only to discover the grade was too steep for the truck. Everything had to be carried to the street. My daughter and her roommates did it without complaint even as the rain intensified.
In the downpour, we unloaded again at the new place in 30 minutes. These young women were impressive.
One test remained: the truck needed to be topped up with gas. Those concrete barriers really do protect the pumps! No damage, and no F-bomb.
As I drop off the rental keys through the night slot, relief washes over me. I didn’t fail her. My ache is gone.
It’s evident that my role is changing, and this is merely the next phase of parenting. We may have our bumps, blind spots, and a few ten-point turns, but we will maneuver it. We have a truck-load of memories, experiences and love. The rear-view mirrors show a parent-child relationship, but in the road ahead we’re adults.
A road of discovery: she’s figuring out her future and so am I. On the days that I’m overwhelmed and scared with this unexpected life change, I remind myself that I need to be a strong her her sake, as well as my own.
Thankfully, I have “big girl boots” - it’s evident that my daughter also has a pair. I’m sure she will show me a few fancy steps. And on challenging days, we’ll both prove that we can use the pointy end.
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