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On Wednesday, April 13th, my daughter, along with her three best friends, and countless others from her high school and one other local Rochester school, departed Rochester en route to JFK Airport in NYC, then onto London, Paris and Barcelona; all over the course of 8 days.
So, today, and everyday, I've been checking the weather. In fact, I'm even obsessive and checking the weather where her next city will be. Yesterday London. Today Paris. Tomorrow, a little hint of what Barcelona will be like upon her arrival.
I'm really happy for my daughter. She gets to spread her wings and not only fly internationally, but will be able to fly sans parental voices in her ear, and explore, breath in the pastries, and all of the surroundings that will make up this whirlwind of a trip.
The thing is, I miss her. I miss my daily hugs and smooches. I miss the smell of her hair when she says, "bring it in, Mom." (that's what she says when she wants a hug ) I miss her telling me about her day. I miss her little text messages asking questions or advice. She couldn't take her cell phone on this trip, and that was fine. We were hoping for a little Internet cafe along the way to at least mention they were there safe and sound. When her brother has this opportunity, I will recommend a phone tree so we know at least the arrival was OK.
The fun thing, though, has been to be able to check the travel card and to "spy" a bit on where her money is being spent. That is how I know she is thriving in London and tomorrow, maybe buying her mother something in Paris. (Although I would not object to a gift from Barcelona.) "Smuggle some cured meat," I say, "it will be fine!" "Can I do that?" "Why not?", I respond. And then we laughed.
You see, I haven't slept since she has been gone. Three hours here, maybe five there. It's all rather humorous and pathetic, actually. I didn't think I would have this reaction! Will I be this way as an empty nester? I tell myself no. We are too close for that. At least we have cell phones for our little daily messages for reassurance. My reassurance has been one of her favorite blankets. It's fuzzy and polka dotted. Her favorite. It's what she wraps herself in when she wants to be on the couch.
So, at night, it makes it's way into my room and next to the pillow on the other side of my bed. It's nice knowing it's there. Every once in awhile I give it a sniff. It's filled with Erin. It comforts me as I wonder and hope she is having the time of her life. It makes me smile when I think of her laugh when one of her friends says something funny. It melts my heart when I know I trust her to explore the flavors of the countries, and the people she will encounter that get to experience the wonderful person that she is.
So, you know I'm not crazy. It's just weird. It's weird not knowing where your child is. It's that time in one's life when you have to start letting go. So waving goodbye to her on Wednesday was OK. No meltdowns. Just smiles. Her biggest experience to date, and a first for me as well. Just go and be, Erin. Have a blast!
Her first plan ride. Her first major train ride. (Being five and going to Boston by train counts, I think.) Not her first bus ride, and then more planes coming home. She has been where I would love to go. I am envious, yet I can live the experience through her and through the tales she will tell when her tired body gets home. I love listening to all she has to say.
I'll be here for her. I will always be here for her. Whether she is in Europe or three miles down the road.
I'm sure the parental voices are in her head. They will always be there to guide her through life's quests and all that goes with it.
I'm so glad her father and I , along with grandparents and aunts, could give her this opportunity. The first in her lifetime of hopefully many more to come.
So, fly my friends. Literally and figuratively. And have the time of your life.
Enjoy,
Kathy
P.S. See you Thursday, Erin.
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