Keith Muise: Crossing Canada in Times of COVID, Part 1

I had driven across Canada once before, ten years earlier to get married in my home province of Newfoundland and Labrador, but I knew this time was going to be different. This time we were smack dab in the middle of a global pandemicA global outbreak of a disease., and I was going to be taking the trip alone. 

Last time I made the trip I had my little brother with me and we turned the trip into an adventure, and let’s face it there was no way in 2010 that I was going to make it to Newfoundland from Alberta, I didn’t even own a cell phone in those days. That’s right, I was one of the last hold outs. If you wanted to reach me in those days it was landline or messenger and I wouldn’t answer until I got home. 

Eight months into the pandemicA global outbreak of a disease., we had decided that even if schools were going to send children back to in person schooling, we would not be sending our son back. Alberta handled the early months of the pandemicA global outbreak of a disease. terribly, so we had suspicions that they would continue with their pattern of danger and we didn’t want to risk our son. 

We had just started to settle into a routine of my wife teaching her kindergarten class virtually in the bedroom, and my son attending his class in the kitchen when one morning, in mid September, out of the blue, my wife turned, looked at me and said, “let’s go home”. I was shocked that she would suggest such a thing. I mean it was just a measly 5691 kilometer (3536 miles) trek across the country, fall was setting in, and there was the small matter of the COVID-19A disease caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus, leading to respiratory illness. pandemicA global outbreak of a disease. that seemed to have no end in sight. 

After the shock of her suggestion wore off, I sprung into action. Moving home was something I would have welcomed any day of the week, even before the pandemicA global outbreak of a disease. began, so my motivation level was easily dialed up to maximum and I plotted our journey, and plans for our destination. 

Our hometown of Stephenville, Newfoundland is not a large place. It has both the charm and drawbacks of a small community, and one of those drawbacks is a scarcity of rental houses. But we got lucky and found a great place to rent from a couple who were living in Nova Scotia, a couple who would later become a great addition to our circle of friends and people whom we care for to this day. 

My wife resigned from her teaching position, and we lined up the moving company, booked flights for my wife and son, and started spreading the news that we would be making the journey home. I was going to drive, and Trista and Kimble, who was just five at the time, were going to fly. Our plan was set and at that point we were hit with a mixture of anxiety, excitement, sadness, and hope. 

Our things were packed, the day had arrived for Trista and Kimble to fly out, and at that time, before we knew that N95 respirators would turn out to be the must-have item of the 2020s, we prepared their cloth masks with filter inserts. We had prepped Kimble by letting him practice wearing it around the house so we felt confident, and we felt like we were doing the best we could. 

All week before the flight, I spent time explaining to Kimble that on the journey he was going to play a fun game, “the world is lava”, just like the fun kids game, “the floor is lava” but this time we would try not to touch anything we don’t have to, because everything was lava. 

I did this to cut down on the amount of times he would touch high traffic objects on the trip, and he was psyched about the challenge, and laughed when I would tickle him if he touched things while we practiced. When the flight was over, Trista told me he did great, and mostly didn’t touch any of the things that usually enticed kids his age, so naturally I was proud. 

With my family safe and sound in Newfoundland at my wife’s grandmother’s house, I was mentally preparing myself for the journey ahead. I was going to be staying in what I estimated to be 5-6 different places, and since I had already been a self-certified germaphobe long before COVID hit, I knew I needed an ace up my sleeve for my own game of “everything is lava”. 

There was no way in hell I was going to sleep in hotel beds using the blankets and pillows that others who might be carrying COVID slept in the day before, so I bought six cheap king-sized sheets, and packed what we jokingly called my pillow and blankie for the trip. 

The night before I left for the longest, most emotional drive of my life, I visited one friend, outside, with a cloth mask on, and it was an unusually warm October night, so we sat and had a good chat on his deck in the back of his house. Since I was so emotional, one visit was all I could handle, and even though I wanted to say goodbye to everyone I knew and loved, it just wasn’t something I thought I could handle.  

We had moved to Fort McMurray, Alberta, seventeen years prior. Many of our childhood friends had moved there too, and it was our home away from home. The roots were deep, and even though I was happy to be going home, I felt an instant grief for what I knew we were losing. 

After an almost sleepless night, the buzz of my phone’s alarm went off and I sprung into action, packing the last of the straggling things, scarfing down a banana, and psyching myself up for the task ahead of me. Once the van was all packed, I walked around the house and shot a video saying goodbye, not just to the empty rooms, but to endless laughs, and visits, and experiences that we had over the couple of years we had lived there. 

As I walked around filming, I wondered if the people who lived there next would feel the ghosts of our family in the air while they made memories of their own, would they ever pick up on the energy we left behind, or were the rooms just rooms, and were we taking that energy with us? 

Closing the door, looking around the neighborhood I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes, and just as I began to cry, the neighbor’s dog barked, the loudest bark I have ever experienced and scared the shit out of me. My sadness turned to laughter and I boarded the van ready to go.