Time Spent with Mum

And the person behind the parent

It’s a sunny May afternoon, and I’m behind the wheels of an SUV. I’m making my way to the Ottawa International Airport and my grip on the wheel is tight, perhaps tighter than usual. I’m both anxious and excited at the prospect of hosting my mum for the next few weeks. She hasn’t visited since I moved here, and in the last decade, I’ve only been back home twice. Since becoming an adult or at least pretending to be one, I’ve had no quality one-on-one time with her. I haven’t seen her through the lens of an adult.

At the airport, I park close to Pillar 12 in arrivals. I let her know I’m here, and I wait in anticipation. A few minutes later, I see her walk out of the airport, scanning the area with blank stares as she filters through the crowd, so I step out of the car and walk in her direction. As I get closer, she turns towards me and we lock eyes. A warm smile spreads across her face and she laughs in excitement as we share a hug. She doesn’t look like she’s been on 3 different flights and spent over 14 hours travelling. She’s more excited than exhausted. Once the initial excitement subsides, we leave the airport and make our way towards my place.

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On the ride home, she talks about a lot of things, about life, family dynamics, things happening I didn’t know that I probably should and so on. It’s a lot, but in a good way. It’s like when you’ve been apart from a close friend for a while, and when you’re re-united, you feel the need to get them up to speed with what’s been happening in their absence. Except in this case, it’s a decade’s worth of information I need to get caught up on. And so, while I drive, I listen closely, as she provides details of recent and not-so-recent events. It turns out this would become our routine for the next few weeks. Me driving, and her spilling tea. I’m so invested in some of these stories that I occasionally miss my highway exits.

In the days that follow, we explore the city together, and do touristy things, like visiting the Canadian History Museum, going on a bus tour of the downtown area and Gatineau, walking around Parliament Hill and so on. She especially enjoys the visit to the Canadian History Museum. Her favourite section is the first level, which is all about the First Nations people. She loves it not only because of the rich history but also because she can see similarities between the ones who lived close to the water and our tribesmen back in Southern Nigeria. Their clothes, tools, and their boats have a striking resemblance to ours. She’s fascinated by this.

As we walk through the museum, she goes into a detailed monologue about what she’d do if she suddenly comes into a lot of wealth. Starting from her hometown, she would actively help fund projects like this in Nigeria and make lots of investment in education.

She reminisces about her younger self being a bookworm, who loved getting lost in the pages of a good book. A popular choice of hers back then were books by James Hadley Chase. And so anything related to education or making it easily accessible is something she’s passionate about. While I listen to these stellar plans, I think to myself, my dad didn’t just bag a baddie, he bagged a nerd too. A man of refined taste. Respect!

After a few weeks, we embark on a trip to Toronto. On the way we talk, with me mostly listening. And as I listen, a thought gradually forms in my mind. This should’ve been obvious by now, but somehow I’m only just realizing this. My mum’s someone’s sister, someone’s daughter, someone’s friend. And she has dreams and aspirations. None of this is new information, but similar to how you hear it gets cold in Canada, you only understand its true meaning when you experience it up close. Maybe her presence here adds more weight and life to the words she says, but whatever the reason for this sudden revelation, it’s refreshing. Refreshing to see her in other roles besides being a mum.

Nothing makes this more clear than when she repeatedly refers to my dad as my husband in the stories she tells me. This I find both sweet and endearing. She could’ve said your father, but she didn’t. “My husband” implies a deep connection, a strong bond, and a relationship she’s proud of. Our choice of words, however subtle, usually conveys how we feel about a person or situation, and if you’re perceptive enough, it’s easy to notice.

When we get to Toronto, we have dinner with my friends and head down to 3030 Dundas West for live music and good vibes. It’s going great. Singing along, we gradually move towards the dance floor to join the crowd. My mum, while moving her body here and there, and occasionally singing along, remains seated and wouldn’t join us on the dance floor. When I ask why, she responds “My lover’s not here, it won’t feel the same”. I’m paraphrasing, but the message remains intact. I know she’s married to my dad, but it feels like it’s the first time I’ve pondered the implications of what that means. All this time, she’s been my mum. She’s also been someone’s lover. Huh.

I offer to dance with her. I’m technically 50% her lover and 50% her, so…. it would feel like dancing with herself and her lover simultaneously. She declines. Apparently, 50% isn’t good enough.

From Toronto, we make our way to Niagara Falls. On the first day of exploration, we head towards Clifton Hill to get passes for the Niagara SkyWheel. When she laughs, I can tell she’s both excited and a little nervous as our turn to get on is approaching. But she’s up for the challenge, and so when the time comes, we get into one pod. As the enormous wheel rotates, the falls slowly come into view; she’s in awe, “wow… wow… wow….”. She stares with childlike wonder as she scans every inch of the pod to take as much of the view in. Very few things trump the feeling you get from being able to do something sweet for a loved one, and even more so for a parent.

The next day, we go on a boat cruise on the Niagara River to see all three falls - the American Falls, the Bridal Veil Falls, and the Canadian (Horseshoe) Falls. I’m the designated cameraman, so I’m taking photos. By this point, my social battery is in the red. I’m running on fumes, but as we approach the falls, we feel the heavy splashing of water, followed by the thunderous sounds of the falls, and she’s elated. Her excitement serves as a shot of dopamine that keeps me going as I take more photos and videos, capturing more child-like wonder and glee. These are the moments we live for.

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We’re finally back in Ottawa and in the last days of her visit. We have deeper conversations, as she provides insights and advice on different subjects. Inevitably, we get to the topic of my love life. According to her, a question I should ask myself when I look out for the one is “Do they make you laugh from your heart?”. And then she adds, “Because your dad does that for me.”..…. See, now I’m convinced this woman is running a covert operation to sell me on marriage. I applaud the effort. Also, I’m learning I have a comedian for a father. I need to hear some of these jokes. They must really be something.

Each day, the list of requirements to find the right person is getting longer. Not only do I need to find a comedian, I too need to be a comedian…sigh. If any of you ladies are in the same predicament, I’ll be at a comedy club near you.

Something else I find rather fascinating is how insightful and perceptive she is. Despite spending only a short amount of time with my friends, she’s able to create accurate profiles on some of them. And where she isn’t spot on, it’s usually because she’s missing key information that would be impossible to know from a brief encounter. This to me further re-enforces the saying - what an elder can see sitting down, a child cannot, even if they climb a tree. If she could discern all that with a limited amount of time, what else is she seeing that I’m not aware of?

The day has finally arrived for her departure, and we’re currently at the airport. It feels like she’s only just arrived, and time has flown by without me realizing it. We check in her bags and we find somewhere to sit and hang out before she has to go through security. We make small talk while we wait, ignoring the looming sadness that hangs over us, knowing that we will soon have to say our goodbyes.

It’s time. She has to go through security. Once we get close enough to the spot where I can go no further, we turn to each other and share a hug, a hug that lasts longer than our typical embrace. Eventually, we let go of ourselves and we say our goodbyes.

Later that evening, standing in my kitchen, I open my refrigerator. And as my gaze falls on a pot of soup in the corner, pain! Pain in my chest, pain from understanding that this is my last free pot of soup. And in its aftermath, while I scroll through some food delivery app, somewhere in Nigeria, my dad will feast on meals I once enjoyed sigh. I had lived like a king during her stay, eating whatever my mind could dream up, and soon my life would return to that of its peasant origins. I stand in silence for a moment with the fridge door left ajar, as my brain processes her absence.

There are so many things to take away from the time spent with my mum. But if there’s one thing you should take away from this, it’s to prioritize spending time with and talking to your parents. Have genuine conversations with them. The person you find behind your mum or dad may surprise you. They have hobbies, dreams and aspirations, fears and concerns, they make mistakes; get sad; and have days when they’re off. You may get to see a lot of yourself in them and realize, just like you, they’re human too.

It was fun piecing this together. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Until next time.