Stranger than Ever

Well, last weekend, the final fin-de-semaine of my elongated vacation, my Boyfriend took me to a B&B near Sandbanks Provincial Park.

(If you've never been to Sandbanks, stop reading and go - right now! White sand, blue water, sand dunes, trees, and waves.)

I was, in essence, taking him there, since I'd been there and he had not, but since he was footing the bill, I prefer to say he took me! Let's make one thing clear here - Boyfriend takes GOOD care of me...

For example, he owns a car, but it doesn't have air conditioning. So he rented a car with A/C, to keep me cool for the 4.5 hour drive. And it was a little ... fancier ... than his bazoo... he wanted me to enjoy all the hours we spent together.

I'm sorry - that's just plain classy! S i g h ...

Where was I? Oh yes, driving to Sandbanks with Boyfriend...

I then was the stunned recipient of a phrase that men the world over have learned to fear when they hear it from the lips of their wives and girlfriends - namely:

"I need to discuss something with you."

Almost as scary as "Some Assembly Required."

I swallowed hard, shoved my panicking stomach down, told the little screaming voices in my brain to STFU, and said, "Oh?", hoping my voice didn't betray the fearstorm growing like a supercell inside me.

After all, this was the beginning of the weekend. If he was breaking up with me, he'd have done it at the end, or not gone on the weekend, right?

"What's the matter?"he asked with genuine concern, having noticed me turn a ghastly green. Not a becoming shade at all!

We talked about the chord of terror those seven words had struck, had a serious hand-holding reassuring discussion, which I will not get into here.

Having stopped the worst of my dread in its tracks, he went on.

"It is likely," he began again, "that I will receive job offers in the States, or overseas. I have no family here, no particular roots, and I've worked in France before and enjoyed it. But you have put down deep roots here. You have a number of very close friends, and it looks like Daughter will soon begin procreating... How would you feel about coming with me? I love you and I want you with me every day, but I wouldn't want you to feel torn or uprooted."

Wow.

I hadn't been thinking beyond next week... Quite the reversal of the usual gender roles, with the man doing the thinking ahead and the woman caught off-guard.

Gobsmacked, in fact!

What a flood of introspection this discussion let loose.

Historically, I've been uprooted since I was five years old. The Great Divorce (with apologies to C.S Lewis) that took me 3000 miles away from my mother, the continual moving brought about by my father's job in the Air Force, his remarriage, he and my Stepmom moving back to Louisiana, where she was from, leaving me stranded with my Grandparents, who meant well, but who were two generations removed from my reality...

I've been shunted to and fro all my life, and pretty much all of it against my will.

I vowed to myself, when I became pregnant with Daughter, that once she was school-aged I would give her the one thing I never had: stability. I promised her (though she was but an infant and didn't understand a word of what I was saying as she sucked leisurely on my boobies) that I would stay in one place when she went to school. That she would be able to form friendships that might possibly last her into adulthood. So that she would be able to have friends to play with, fight with, do stupid things with, and grow with. Help her stand on her own two feet, supported by way more than my own inadequate ideas on how life works. I knew I was damaged goods: I wanted her to be able to have the help of her peers.

So, even though I was unemployed soon after her schooling began, I stayed put.

I, in turn, made friends of my own. Well, your kids make friends for you, as they say, and to a certain extent that's true. You get to know other moms, and some of them become friends. I did manage to take up with a few people who became part of the fabric of my life... Of all ages, too. Since I was raised by Grandparents, I have a hard time seeing age. I was in my thirties before I could tell whether someone I met was in their twenties or in their fifties, but I digress...

I told Daughter about Boyfriend's discussion, and her response was not at all what I had imagined it to be.

I had broached the subject of impending pregnancies, for example, and rambled on, half-theorizing, half remembering, the two blissful weeks my Mommy stayed with me when Daughter was born...

"Stop right there," came an imperious cry from Daughter.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"If you think, for one minute, that you're going to come and live with me for TWO WHOLE WEEKS right after I've given birth, you can think again!" she commanded. "I love you mommy with all my heart, but you and I drive each other NUTS!"

Oh.

It went on from there. I will be Granny, be a part of the lives of my Grandchildren, when the time comes, but Daughter doesn't need me to babysit, do laundry, clean or cook for her.

Come and visit, in other words.

Oddly, her reaction didn't help me understand if I wanted to follow Boyfriend to the ends of the earth or not. It merely reinforced that I'd done the job I promised. Daughter is independent, and happy. I, at this point, am basically superfluous. There would be no impediment from her end that would prevent me from leaving the country.

It just made me wish she wanted me closer to her. Oh well...

The next pal I tried to discuss this with was R, who I've known since taking filmmaking courses together when I was 17. R basically did what he's always done, especially back then when we were trying to come up with ideas... blasted me. "This is too theoretical" etc etc etc.

No help there.

I had my friend P over for dinner, who in his inimitable, logical way said, "The only question is, where do YOU want to be? Do you WANT to spend your time with Boyfriend or not? Figure that out, and you have your answer."

And oddly enough, a moment after my heart said "Of course I want to be with him!", that's when I started getting lonely. Started thinking about how I like to get together with my friends, if not every week, at least every second week. How together we ruminate the minutiae of daily life, only occasionally going somewhere that costs money, preferring each other's kitchens to places of interest.

It's not that I particularly LIKE being poor - it's that I'm used to it. Used to staying home. Used to having coffee in my friends' homes or mine. Used to watching rented videos instead of gala openings. Used to sitting on the steps and watch the sprinkler water the lawn and the searchlight passing endlessly through the evenings.

I'm not used to flying around the globe, staying in hotels, taking people out to dinner. A cup of tea with a girlfriend who uses her teabags four times to save money, that's what I'm familiar with.

Who would I be, who would I become, if I followed my heart and cut the ties that bind me to this little patch of earth called Montreal? Without my friends to chat with, how would I know how I feel? Am I strong enough to be myself in a relationship without the eyes of my friends keeping watch over me?

Is it possible to be happy, without roots?

Seems I've come back to my uprooted past, after all, or it has come back to me. I am already torn - hah! - "Torn Again", with apologies to the Christians... I already miss everyone. I'm already in seventh heaven in Boyfriend's arms, my hand in his as we pass through Customs at the airport, excited and eager for brand-new adventures. And I'm as lonely as I've ever been in my life.

And I haven't even left yet!