Memories from Canada to Colorado
By Kate Everson
Copyright 2012 Kate Everson
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It’s a long way from Canada to Colorado as the crow flies. But it’s even further when you’re hauling a child on the longest train ride of his life.
But that’s the way we did it, when my son was just getting into Grade 5. We packed our meager bags and got on the train in Toronto, southwest bound for Denver. The train broke down in Chicago but somehow they fixed it and we just kept going. We had to. It was our destiny.
My husband and I had split up when Jason was only two years old. I had moved out as soon as I had enough money to pay my own rent. Once I had a taste of that freedom, I never let it go.
The early years of being on our own were not easy, financially and emotionally. I had a low-paying job as a clerical worker in one of Ottawa’s many government departments in the 1970s. We stayed in a small apartment in Britannia Bay and Jason went to daycare while I worked. I was fortunate to have good parents near Trenton, and we visited them as often as we could. We got used to trains.
My parents had a small stone house along the Trent River. Dad was a retired school teacher and ex-RCAF from World War II. My mother was the quiet one, enjoying arts and reading. They both loved Jason and I was grateful for their support.