Leaving Ottawa

Leaving Ottawa

At the end of grade 11 we were packing up and leaving for Saguenay Valley to Bagotville.  As my father called it, ‘Bag Town’ and we were going to go to ‘Sag High’. It did not install confidence that this would be a fun posting. My mother’s attitude was a bit contagious as she saw postings as a new adventure.  But the moves were wearing thin as, this time, I was leaving too much behind.

The last night before our move, Art came over to say goodbye.  I had a curfew at midnight which I always respected but I did think  this situation called for some lee way. We were talking under the back porch light and the clock was ticking towards the midnight hour.

My father bade me to say goodnight to Art and I decided not to listen to him.  He was being unreasonable.  It would do no harm for us to have a little longer visit this night so I brazenly defied him and suggested to Art that we go for a walk.  He complied, against his better judgement.

It was late and the streets were quiet but well lit.  Soon we heard a car roll up behind us. My father told me to get in.  I said no, I would walk home.  But Art, afraid of my father, was nudging me, “Get in, get in.”  So I did. I never forgave my father for that because I could never understand why he would be so cold and not understand how important this night was for me. He was insufferable.