Latchkey Kid - JT's Tales from the Trail

Jill Thomas is a rambler, traveler, and storyteller with a big laugh who thinks its funny how life leads you right where you need to be, however the roundabout path. 

I crave belonging like a phantom limb - like I am searching for a missing part of me. Always have.  

I often joke about being raised by a wolf. A friendly, reliable, primarily responsible wolf, but a wolf nonetheless. My parents divorced when I was in first grade and then moved to opposite sides of Canada. My sister and I lived with my mom because that is what was done back then, but she was the less maternal of our two parents.

The words that best describe my mom’s parenting style are tenacity, persistence, and obligation - all important for our survival. She maintained a roof over our heads and groceries in the fridge; we never lacked the basics. 

But she was overwhelmed and under-resourced, and we were latchkey kids. Little did we know this was an emergent social phenomenon at the time. 

In elementary school, mom would wake my sister and me up at 5 am, get us dressed for school, serve us soft-boiled eggs and toast, and install us on the sofa. We’d listen to Peter Gzowski on CBC Radio until the TV stations turned off the colorful test pattern and began programming. Then we’d watch JP Patches and Captain Kangaroo and, after that, walk to school. 

I carried a simple house key on a string around my neck. I don’t remember walking my sister home from school, but maybe I did. I do remember the television shows we watched while waiting for mom to get home from work. 

By high school, my sister and I lived like independent, non-rent paying tenants in our mother’s home, orbiting each other like planets in a solar system, only vaguely aware of the particulars of each other's lives.

My first attempt at belonging was to join all the sports, even though I lacked innate athletic talent. It drove my mom nuts. She’d roll her eyes and proclaim, “I’m not a f***ing soccer mom,” whenever I asked for a ride. 

But she let me do whatever I wanted, and I became an expert moocher - becoming a pro at getting other kids’ parents to drive me to practices and games. 

In high school, I found belonging with my peers and later with my friends and family. But the craving persists nonetheless. I still join everything.

So Sole Sisters, this week, while you ramble, I hope you ponder the places and people where you belong. Maybe they are not what your younger self expected to find. Either way, we want to hear about them in the comments.