I’m a Single Mom and Took a Solo Road Trip to Rediscover Myself | Invesloan.com

To celebrate my 50th birthday, my four sons — now, all in their 20s — threw me a beach picnic party with friends, music, and a bonfire. It was the perfect party for who I am now.

A few months later, in early October last year, I set off on my first solo road trip. It was a birthday gift to me. Unlike the party, this road trip was for someone else — not for me as a mom, but for the different versions of my younger self along the way.

The first thing I packed was my portable fan. I’ve always loved a fan but began relying on it more desperately after I became a single mom. I sleep with it on, as the sound helps anchor my brain. The second was pillows. This was to bring along the comforting scent of home.

I had a car all to myself for three whole weeks, so there was space to make myself comfortable throughout the journey. More space than I had ever had in a car. More space than I had ever had in my own head.

Revisiting the past along the way

The plan for my 21-day trip was to drive from my hometown outside Toronto and head south across the border. I planned out stops across Vermont, Maine, and Massachusetts to places I had never seen in real life but, as the narrative settings for some of my favorite books and movies, had shaped me nonetheless.

They were, in a way, home to the girl I was before. Before kids, before marriage, before life made decisions for me.

“Little Women” was set in Concord, Massachusetts. It’s a book I have read about 10 times. I credit it for making me want to be a good friend, a good writer, and even a good mother.

Martha’s Vineyard, about 100 miles southeast of Concord, was, for me the land of “Jaws” — the first movie I saw in the theater at just 3 years old. A movie I return to again and again.

Maine was the setting for many of Stephen King’s horror stories — including “It,” “Carrie,” “Salem’s Lot,” plus, my personal favorite, “Needful Things.” The books I kept under my bed as a preteen, reading through sleepless nights when my body was shifting and growing, and I was becoming something entirely new. Another me.

Over the years, I have evolved into many different types of women.

And so, my goal for this trip was to visit each of them again. Most importantly, I wanted to revisit my pre-mom self.

I had my first son when I was 21, my fourth when I was 28, and I was on my own with all four by 30. I was never an adult without being a mom, never alone in a car for longer than an hour. I never stopped to pee unless at least two others also needed to pee. I didn’t get off the highway to explore. My life had been focused on the logistics of parenting.

On my first morning drive, I let it in. The solitude, the choices I got to make for just me. I listened to the Spotify playlist from one of my sons titled “Good Country,” songs by John Prine and Orville Peck, Dolly Parton, and Patsy Cline. Each of my boys curated their own playlist. They included songs from our life together and new music they knew I would like.

It felt like a gentle push to become my own person again.

Focusing on myself

Around day 10 of the trip, I settled into becoming me again. The sun was coming up, the fall leaves were at their brightest. I pulled off the highway and found a diner for breakfast. I took an entire hour to eat, drunk with the decadence of no schedule and a day full of my own time.

This was the rhythm I discovered on my road trip. I drove on my days off and stopped when I had to work. A run-down hotel in Cape Cod gave me a discount for a waterfront room in the offseason, and here I walked on the deserted beach, drank coffee in my room, and wrote. I liked the solidity of working from the road.

Sometimes, I stayed in an Airbnb, and sometimes, I splashed out a little on a fancy hotel room with nice towels. I liked lunch on the road and dinner sitting alongside interesting people at a bar.

I met a woman in Concord who bought me a martini and told me to go to Sleepy Hollow cemetery to visit all the “good graves.” Two men in Maine became friends and invited me to their house for brunch.

I spent time with a local fisherman and his girlfriend in Martha’s Vineyard. We ate potato skins, drank a beer, and talked about “Jaws” after a long day of my own personal location scouting. They told me that the bar was owned by a “Jaws” cast member, the boy who was eaten. I was introduced to extras from the movie, heard local lore, and a few good jokes

I slept so happily that night. Alone but not lonely, not hobbled by silence. I almost didn’t need my fan.

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