21 Years On, I Revisited the House Where I First Became a Mother
Time has aged us both — the house and me
This summer, for the first time in several years, I took my kids to our favourite summer destination — France. A place filled with memories for all of us of road trips, camping, and live music. Yet for just me, memories filled with far more.
One week into the holiday, we were heading across the country. It had already been one heck of a drive down to the Célé valley, in the Lot region. 10 hours in total. And now I was bracing myself for what kind of journey the GPS would plot for us to head northwards to Brittany.
Just short of seven hours was the GPS’s reckoning, which I hoped wouldn’t be an underestimation. Driving in France is pretty smooth when there’s no traffic. It’s especially smooth when you are able to take the autoroutes the entire way. But sometimes there are long stretches of smaller roads you need to take, just to get from one autoroute to another, with roundabout after roundabout every few kilometres. And that can get pretty tedious.
I looked at the route the Sat Nav had plotted and, lo and behold, we had one of those delightful cross country routes to do. Then I looked a little closer and gave a start.
