On steering past the spireas—and surrendering our burdens

The myriad attempts to back out of my long, narrow driveway are embarrassingly comical. It’s shameful to me, certainly, because we live on a busy street and there are a lot of witnesses. But it’s hilarious to my son, in the passenger seat, shaking with laughter as I steer directly into, versus alongside, my reference points. First spirea, then brick wall, then spirea, then brick wall. And on and on it goes for a full 75 feet.

The only solution I have found is to look dead ahead. When I stare unblinkingly at the bullseye which is my neighbour’s plastic storage shelter and drive, albeit slowly, the straight reverse is doable. When I look too long, or too hard, at what’s behind, the bushes and the brick wall beckon.

Having spent most of 2021 thinking about and living in the past—and feeling pinned to the wall, emotionally and spiritually, because of it—I find the metaphor too powerful to be ignored.

Anecdotal research would indicate I’m not alone. I know many people for whom the past has been undeniably present during this pandemic. Sure, we pay lip service to taking things “one day at a time” because planning ahead, for anything, seems next to impossible. The trouble with today, especially with so little tomorrow to distract one’s attention, is that yesterday takes centre stage more often than it should.

And then there has been the collapse of in-person contact with coping communities. From the church to the water cooler and all points in between, a pre-pandemic world held countless opportunities for laughter, spontaneous conversations and so many human interactions that contributed to an overall sense of wholeness and forward momentum.

And if the pandemic itself wasn’t enough, I’ve spent the last couple of years hyper-attentively watching my son’s progress through adolescence, which seems to have triggered a regression into the most jagged parts of my own. As Joe intensifies his bond with his father—thanks to a relationship built on love and rational discipline versus fear and an unpredictable temper—the mother in me celebrates while the inner child feels insanely jealous.