27 Oct G Day Story: Jenny

Jenny Lutes started blogging in 2009 under the name Solo Mommy and a year later she re-named the blog Ruminating Mommy as her situation changed. She has always loved writing, and hopes that others can connect to what she has to say. Her aim is to be open and honest, and perhaps witty from time to time. Currently, she is home with her daughters – 8 year old Ava and 2.5 year old Madelaine, and her family comprises of the three of them, and her husband. Thank you for sharing another G Day Story, Jenny!

You can read Jenny’s first G Day story here.

In August of ’88 my parents told me that my Dad was taking a job in Vancouver, and we would be moving in October (we lived in Winnipeg). I remember sitting on our apartment balcony overlooking the Red River, as they pulled out a map of Canada and showed us where Vancouver was. It was way on the other side of the map… I was 10, and I had only left Manitoba to visit Minnesota (an hour drive from the cottage) for quick trips to get Nerd Blizzards.

When it was time to say goodbye to my friends on that last day of school, I cried and cried. The next day, we hit the road with my Uncle who came to help my Mom with the drive (my Dad drove to Vancouver ahead of us to start work). The car was packed with trip necessities, and we all loaded in including our bird BW (Blue Wings) in her cage on front passenger seat floor. We had the radio blasting (at a respectable level) and my sister and I were ready for the long drive with our stacks of colouring and activity books.

We stopped that night in Melville, Saskatchewan to visit our Great Grandparents. One of my memories of my Great Grandpa is of him playing his accordion that evening. My Great Grandma made a delicious meal in the kitchen. (She always smelled like baking flour…so comforting.) We left the next day – my 7 year old sister and I sick with fevers and wrapped up in the back seat in soft afghan quilts that my Great Grandma had knitted.

When I first saw the mountains I couldn’t grasp the enormity of their massiveness. Arriving in Vancouver, we crossed the Second Narrows to Deep Cove – I was terrified of heights and bridges at that time. My Dad was so excited to show us around upon our arrival that we got back into the car to tour Stanley Park before sunset (had to cross the Lions Gate Bridge – two bridges in one day was enough to get over the bridge fear).

We spent years in the Cove combing the beaches for sand dollars and flipping rocks to watch the crabs going about their business; jumping off docks and swimming; walking out to look at starfish when the tide was way out; hiking the Baden Powell Trail to Quarry rock; and going to the corner store for candy.

Lesson learned by my 10 year old self: Take chances and make big decisions sometimes because you may end up in a much better place, and the journey is just as important as the destination.

(We disliked our new school in Vancouver so much that we switched schools after a few months – I went to 3 schools in grade 5. This forced my introverted self to make new friends many times over. As an adult, I have no fear of big change.)