Home Free (25 page)
“Oh, your mouth, right! How was it?”
He shrugs, and his lips ripple experimentally before he speaks.
“It was okay. And when they were giving me the nitrous oxide, I was sure I had come up with the perfect title for you.”
“Really? On nitrous? What?” I was getting desperate. Maybe drugs really were the answer.
His lips form a sort of square.
“
Consent.
”
We laugh,which causes his mouth to do odd things.
“Well, it's a great title for book about date rape,” I say.
“What's wrong with the one from last nightâ
How We Leave
Home
? Doesn't anybody like that?”
“Not really. Barbara said it might end up in the âHow To' section of the bookstore. And Janet thought I said âHowie Leaves Home.' She thought it was a children's book about a duck.”
“Last night when I was walking by the lake, I came up with an idea for the subtitle.
The Far Shore of Motherhood
.”
“Hmmm. Nice.”
“Because there
is
a lake theme in the book . . .”
“. . .which only you will notice . . .”
Brian massages his jaw.
“What about
Sugar Mountain
?” I say. “The Neil Young song? It's actually a song about being 20 and leaving home.”
His brow furrows.
“I'm not sure mothers of small children would want to buy a book called
Sugar Mountain
. . . ,” he tentatively offers.
“With the subtitle
Feel The Rush!
Okay, I see your point, forget it. Although, kids might buy it. They'd buy that and
Howie Leaves
Home
for sure.”
It's after 2 p.m., and I'm still in my nightgown. I push some of the manuscript piles around with my bare feet, fanning them out.
“
I Really Must Be Going
is still my favourite. It's what someone says when they know they should be leaving, and then don't. It's the malingering mother, always threatening to go, but still sitting there with her coat on.”
He peers at the long file of potential titles open on my screen. His white hair at the back of his head is all ruffled up from being in the dentist's chair.
“Are you sure you shouldn't lie down for a while?” I say.
“No, I've got too much stuff to do.”
“Well, don't worry about me. I've got two more days. No need to panic.”
Brian is someone who does the Sunday
New York Times
crossword until every box is filled. I see him mentally rolling up his sleeves.
“What about
Mothering Up
âthat's upbeat. Orâwaitâ
Mothering
Down
. . . or . . .
Too Close to Home
. . . orâ”
I swivel in my ergonomic chair and put my arms around him. It's a strange assignment I have chosen, to come up with a working title for our lives, but I'm glad he's still game.
The inklings of this project began with a preface I wrote for
Double
Lives
, a literary anthology about motherhood and the writing life. I'd like to thank Shannon Cowan,Fiona Lam and Cathy Stonehouse for inviting me to contribute. The piece I wrote for them became a scene in this book and got me thinking about our relationship as parents to our grown-up children.
However, it was my editor, Patrick Crean,who came to me with the idea, and I am grateful for his faith in the project. I'm sure we both thought it would be a simple undertaking. But becoming an embedded reporter in one's own family has its disorienting moments. I counted on Patrick's support, good judgement and encouragement at every step along the way.
The chapter “That's That”has been adapted from the story “Just Cremation,”which appeared in the anthology
The Heart Does Break
, published by Random House. Part of the chapter entitled “The Broken Year” first appeared in an essay for
Zoomer
magazine. My sincere thanks to editors Jean Baird and Kim Izzo for their guidance.
I did my best to be home-free while I worked on this book, by moving from nest to nest. I am grateful to Katherine Ashenberg, Anne Nicholson and Arne Moore, John Barrington and Tina Van-derheyden, and the Queen St. Dark Horse café for providing writing refuges.
The chapter “Vertical Travel” is based on conversations with my godson, Gabriel Czarnecki, who generously shared his knowledge and ideas about rite of passage ceremonies. Mark Czarnecki helped me sort out the sixties. Thanks to Christy Mackintosh for her Tunnel Mountain research.
My friend and colleague Nora Underwood turned the copyediting process into a pleasurable dialogue, and I am grateful for her deft editorial insights as well. My appreciation to Wendy Thomas at Thomas Allen Publishers for grace under pressure, and to my agent, Samantha Haywood, for her early endorsement. To Jill Frayne for always checking in. For manuscript reads I'm indebted to Ian Pearson,Brian Johnson,Casey Johnson,Christopher Keil and Barbara Gowdy. From the first outline-on-a-napkin to the final draft,Mike Kearns provided counsel. Many thanks to my comrades who escorted me through the title ordeal, in particular to Anne Mackenzie. Janet Burke provided perspective and ER support, as always.
At this point, authors normally acknowledge their loved ones, without whom the book would not be possible, etc. In my case, this has never been truer. Let me thank my beloved narrative elements, Brian and Casey, from the bottom of my heart. I am lucky to have two big-spirited men in my life, and I owe everything to their creativity, honesty and generosity.
