Surfing in Paris

With the revision of my short story collection (mostly) complete, I am preparing for a writing residency. I leave tomorrow morning at 6:30am. This is not like most writing residencies, where one runs away from home and all its responsiblities in order to focus on one's writing. I am going on a work trip to Slidell, Louisiana with a group of people who will be rebuilding a home damaged by Hurrican Katrina. While the others mud, drywall and paint, I will be writing alonside them. In the evening, I will offer writing opportunities to anyone who is interested.

It has been a busy week in my family. 13 boarded a plane to China this morning. She raised money for her ticket in less than six months. Honestly, I don't know how she did it. But I do: she baked bread; she dog-sat; she sold carwash coupons; she saved her Birthday and Christmas money. She has been packing and unpacking all week, making certain that she had all the necessities, including the right shoes to match the clothes she packed, and a package of Oreos. She loaded her backpack with books. I gave her a journal to record her thoughts.

At the airport, no one cried. Not even me. It could be because she is the last of seven. I have witnessed many departures and returns. It could be because she is an experienced traveler, traveling with her school group to San Francisco last year. This kid has been leaving me since the day she exited the womb.

It could be because I am not a sentimental person, or that I am tired and ready for a break.

By the time we were pulling out of the parking garage, I was making a mental list of what I needed to pack for my writing residency. I can't help but wonder if this makes me a bad mother. Shouldn't I be worrying about my daughter?

This is not the first time that a trip of mine has overlapped with my kids' departures. I think I prefer it that way. It is much easier to go away if I know they are off doing their own thing as well. It is a phenomenon I call Surfing in Paris, inspired by my first trip to Europe, when I was forty. While I was gone, my kids went to the beach with their dad. I was glad that they had something to keep them occupied. What I found was that while I was off struggling to relax away from home, my daughter (17) decided to take surfing lessons. I have spent hours talking this kid into diving off the dock into the lake, so know, without a doubt, she would not have done this if we were together. There was something about going our own ways that gave both of us courage to step out of our comfort zones, to try something new. And when I returned, she was proudly wearing the t-shirt that proved she had ridden a wave.

This time, my baby is the one traveling to another country. She might be anxious, maybe even scared. It seems like we are far away from each other. But that is just geography.

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