We waited in a forever long lineup of cars. After hours of driving through the mountains, we stopped to pick up a second car for my mom to use, and then headed to the ferry terminal. Soon we would be on Salt Spring Island. In the long line, we disembarked the vehicles, stretched in the parking lot, breathed in the salt water and stood on tippy-toes trying to see the ocean. Then the cars up ahead started to move so we jumped back into the vehicles. Me, my sisters and my dad in the van; my mom following right behind us. Excitement grew inside of us. We would soon be aboard a massive boat. I love, have always loved boat rides.
We were waved ahead, started to drive on to the boat, but when I looked back, I realised they had stopped my mom. I panicked. Our van was the last vehicle to get onto the boat. I might have cried as I realised that we were leaving my mom behind. I think I demanded that we go back to be with her. We couldn’t leave her behind. My dad did what he could to assure my sisters and me that we would wait for my mom on the island. That she could catch the next boat over and everything would be fine.
I’m not sure I agreed, but everything turned out fine.
I’m on the other side of Canada today. The ferry has just pulled in and soon I’ll have to stand in line to board. I’m sad to be leaving New Brunswick. I met a lady here, a lady who showed me that the nurture from a human is far greater than anything mother earth has to offer me. She’s not a woman I’ve known for long, but she cared for me, looked out for me and mothered me when that’s what I needed. As I prepare to leave NB, I feel the pain of leaving her behind. I want to cry, catch a bus in the opposite direction and go be with her.
The announcement tells me that it's time to board. The ferry will not wait for me, it will not mother me. Though the waves of the ocean may rock and comfort me, nothing compares to those who have nurtured and mothered me.