Solo

If you look closely at this photograph, in the distance, you’ll see a figure in a purple coat.

If you look again, you’ll notice that the figure is alone.

That’s my girl. My 17-year-old daughter, walking to school (well, part of the way to school), on her own.

Her teaching assistant has been calling for her in the morning and letting her take the lead on the quarter of a mile walk from our house to her classroom. The helper has been dropping back, ‘shadowing’ and offering help and advice where needed, as my daughter’s travel training has stepped up a gear.

This morning, she suggested that my girl meet her at the first road she has to cross, around the corner of our cul de sac and just a few hundred yards along.

Tomorrow, she’s meeting her a bit further along, after she’s crossed on her own. 

Each day, step by step, my girl is being given more free rein, until she’s able to safely complete the short, but oh so epic journey. Solo.

I’m terrified, of course. But if my anxious girl can do this thing, this mundane, run-of-the-mill, utterly amazing thing, then I'll do my bit: let her.

Song is Buzzcocks - Walking Distance

Walk

My daughter really wasn’t keen on walking home from school yesterday.

It’s only half a mile.

We’ve been having trouble with her managing the walk to and from school, particularly on a day when she does PE or walks to the other school site, which is a little distance away.

She gets tired easily. So we sometimes drive there and walk back, and sometimes - on an extra busy day for her - drive both ways. If anybody dares to judge me as being a lazy mum clogging up the road in my 4x4, then I’ll fight them. (I am pretty lazy, so I'll give them that, but I don’t have a 4x4. And this is NOT about me, so they can butt out).

I thought it was going to be a problem when her lip started to quiver as we told her we’d be walking home with her brother, who needed to burn off some energy and was doing this by zipping around on his scooter knocking down small children and pensioners.

But her dad stepped in.

“It’s not far. We’ll make a list in our head of what we’ll see on the way and tick it off. OK?”

She looked unsure. He carried on, manfully. I looked sceptical, womanfully.

“First, there’s the Red Lion pub. 

Then there’s the crossing, where the lollipop lady is.

Then there’s the baptist church. 

Then there’s the garage. 

Then there’s the house with the white lions outside. 

And then there’s our road, and our house. OK?”

She nodded. We started walking. We reached each landmark. She started looking out for the next one, and getting excited when she saw it. We arrived home, a trail of scooter track-imprinted bodies lying prone in our wake, and my girl with weary feet but a fresh smile.

Her dad. He’s good at this, you know.

Video is Tom Waits - The Long Way Home