The day after I turned sixteen I took my driving test. I’ve never loved driving and it made me as nervous then as it does now so I was super surprised when I passed. So was my mum – it took her three tries to pass hers as a teen and I think you could have knocked her over with a feather when I walked out of that place a legal driver.

That evening mum loaned me her car so that I could go out. I grew up in Bramalea (it’s a suburb of Toronto that’s called Brampton now but it’s Bramalea in my heart forever) and like all teenagers in the ‘burbs the only place I ever really wanted to go was the city. It was also the only place that mum said I couldn’t drive her car. No highway, no city, no way.

I agreed, and immediately got on the highway and went to the city, straight to Ken’s house. Ken’s a little older than me and had made his break to freedom and lived in an absolutely craptastic and tiny bachelor apartment that I thought was just about the most incredible thing. It was so cool that you had to take the coolest highway in the city to get there, which was to me was the Allen Expressway. Back then it had yellow/orange low sodium lighting – the only route in the city to have it and driving the last leg to his place was like driving through a cellophane world and felt so grown-up. I didn’t stay long because I had a curfew, and I never asked my mum if she knew I’d broken the rules right out of the gate like that. I’ve always thought that she probably knew because she always knew everything, but then again I wasn’t much of a rule breaker so maybe I got away with it. If she did know she never said anything, probably because by then she’d worked out that trying to keep Ken and I apart was pointless. I was a moth to a flame – except that flames are bad for moths and my life has never, ever been anything but better for getting close to Ken.

The rest is history really. Ken and I went right on being “Steph and Ken” or “Ken and Steph” and those few years after he moved away from Bramalea and was 40 minutes from me is the furthest we have ever lived apart. I moved to Toronto a few years later, and then we always had homes close to each other – and for a long time Ken lived downstairs from my mum. Not in 40 years has Ken had a home more than an hour from mine.

Until yesterday. Yesterday was the beginning of a different thing – Ken moved away. Four hours away to Ottawa. When he told me he was going I cried. I tried not to cry much because it is very selfish to want to keep someone who is making a good and right decision with you for no reason other than than that you like your family tidy, but honestly change is not my best thing, and it is so much easier to be close when we are all… close, you know what I mean?

We went to his place all together yesterday (or at least those of us who could get there) to see him off and give him a box of things that come in handy if you are moving (like toilet paper and napkins and snacks for the car and champagne and plastic glasses to celebrate his new home with his partner and a bottle of scotch for just in case, and Elliot wrote a card and Amanda ran around finding all the best things and Meg made him a cross stitch) and we took it over and surprised him on his porch and then we all tried to say goodbye and were predictably terrible at it. As much as I’m used to having him around that’s how much the girls are used to it too, and Elliot I think doesn’t quite get the magnitude of what’s happened, but that’s okay. We’re all going to learn how to do this new thing.

This is another pandemic lesson, for sure. Ken said until the this thing came along he couldn’t imagine moving away from the family, but for much of the pandemic we haven’t been able to gather as we liked despite living close to each other – and now we’ve had some practice finding other ways to connect, other ways to feel close even when we can’t be, so if you’re going to make a bold move, we’re better equipped now.

There is so much about this decision that changes everything. No more last minute meals or walks together, no more popping by to drop things off – no more weeknight suppers on the porch for Ken and Amanda. (They’ve had a weekly outdoor porch dinner together just about the whole pandemic. Even when things were at their worst, you could find Amanda and Ken and outdoor heaters and electric blankets and takeaway on his porch, the snow swirling around them.) No more training rides together, no more quick park trips with Ellie, no more deliveries of warm bread or things from “Elliot’s Bakery.” (If I know Ken, the impact this move would have on his access to fresh bread and baked goods was a factor he considered a great deal before going.)

On the other hand, there’s so much about this decision that changes nothing. The phone still works (and Ken and I are old enough that we use it.) We all know how to FaceTime and Zoom now, four hours on the train isn’t that far really, and we will figure out holidays and special things just like we always have, no matter what goes on. It’s funny – I know so many families that are so spread out that I’m sure this doesn’t seem like a big deal to them, but it’s only the last year or two that there is any space between our crew at all, and we’ve got a lot to learn. We’re going to get the hang though. We are. We’ve got this.

In just nine days, Ken will get on the train and come back to Toronto so that Team Knit will still be able to ride together, it’s a big bother and he’s had to leave his bike here so that he’ll have it in the right spot, so no more training for him for now. (I don’t know if I should be jealous or not.) If you’ve been waiting to donate to him then today’s probably a good day to fling a little love his way. (His link is here.)

I’m crazy sad that he’s gone, and super proud that he went. I know it was the right thing, but I also know that didn’t make it easy. I am responding in typical fashion. I’ve started him a pair of socks. There’s just no way it won’t help.

(Photo by Elliot – who had zero enthusiasm for holding my knitting but was quite keen to take the picture. Not bad, either. Yarn is Indigodragonfly’s Bike Rally yarn for this year, and the pattern is Show-off Stranded Socks, with a few changes.)

PS: If you look closely you can see that I finished my new top. I’ll get better pictures later but I love it.

PPS: Look at me! I blogged again!

*I’ve always known the phrase “sea change” – my grandparents used it when talking about big changes in perspective or attitude (especially as it related to us kids and our behaviour) but it wasn’t until I was an adult and saw it in a book that I realized it was “sea” rather than “see”. Up until then I thought it was spelled the way it was used… as in “I’d like to see a change”. Anyway. It’s not.