Adam on the move[/caption]
And so we moved again. It has been lots of hard work to prepare Adam for another (and final) move to our now permanent home in downtown Toronto. I decided to put everything aside to prepare him (and our new home) for the transition. This involved many social stories, visitations to the renovation site, weekly pictures and a reassurance that this was going to be a happy move. Our last move was a consequence of divorce and took its toll on both of us.
Adam had lots of positive support and a smooth summer at camp. I prepared calendars, reviewed them, we typed (talked) about moving all the time. I also made a calendar countdown to prepare with a symbolic punctuation to indicate our last day at our house; this involved letting go of four red balloons into the sky. On them I wrote: Mommy and Adam, Hope and Dreams, Bye Bye (address), and New Home.
Before the bus came to pick up Adam early on August 14th, we stood on the driveway on the sunny morning and discussed each balloon then let them go one by one. We watched them float high in the sky – the sun in our eyes – until they disappeared. Adam’s grin was wide and he jumped up and down a few times; my heart was heavy as it was giddy to see how well this was going. Adam seemed to be coping so well… not tearful or anxious as I expected him to be. In fact, I was floored when he typed about the move, “you are home to me.” Now that’s putting things into perspective!
Soon I would let Adam get on the bus and say goodbye for two weeks. Later that day he would go to his dad’s house while I prepared our new home for his arrival. The movers would be there on the heels of his camp bus, gutting our memories – of becoming a new kind of family from the new pictures on our mantel to Adam’s art that would make it our home. I wonder if I had made such earnest preparations to avoid the severe spasms Adam encountered during the divorce move; to avoid the heartbreak we worked so hard to overcome…and succeeded.
I recalled when we made another happy move – when Adam’s father and I built a new house and Adam participated in his weekly construction with frequent visitation to the site. There was one object I had left back in our, what I will call, “Rosemary House” (to do with the location) that I had to return to obtain. I was pregnant with Adam in that house. We had found out Adam was autistic in that house and endured hours of “therapy.” I was becoming the mother I was meant to be. It was old and rickety but it had cradled precious memories that are heritage to me (sadly the house was not and has since been torn down). The object I returned for was Adam’s bassinet which was mine as an infant. My mother worked hard to refurbish it for Adam and it was hand-made by my grandmother. Heritage was at least maintained in this. A light summer storm was brewing in the late afternoon as I pulled into the driveway and Adam, only a toddler, was asleep in the back seat. I left him in the car to quickly run in and grab the bassinet to put in the back of my van. But it was hard to leave the warm inside. There is a compulsion to stay in an old empty house full of memories even when it is stripped bare except for the dust bunnies that appeared like tumbleweeds in the desert. I remember standing in our bedroom, where Adam spent most nights with us, trying to review all the memories in fast-forward. I had to pull myself away to return to Adam, still unaware and fast asleep.
Perhaps we’ve now had too many of those moments ever since. As Adam’s bus turned the corner, the movers pulled in. They worked quickly removing boxes and our house was empty again. I vacuumed and cleaned it for the new owners but also because of gratitude and the love we built in that house. I felt the pull again to linger and remember how Adam and I learned to become our own family unit; how friends became our family there and how my parents Adam and I have become closer than ever. Adam and I did it – we pulled it together in that house. As I felt the tears begin, I abruptly left. It is time to move on…go, I said aloud. Time to move to our happy house, close to public transit and bustling life on the streets… and down the hall from my parents. It was part of my plan for Adam and his future being in the heart of transit and the city for his quality of life. It was fortuitous that it all worked out. So instead of preaching, I decided to lead by example: to leave quickly and look forward while paying respect to our past. Remember the red balloon that read: Adam and Mommy…Hopes and Dreams.
A month later I can write about it. There is more to follow.