For the second time this month, a small black suitcase stuffed with requested items for my dearest daughter in Florence leaves my home, entrusted into the care of one of her friends who journeys to Italy for a visit. That friends can afford to travel so far afield now-a-days amazes me but so be it. For several weeks before said bag is scheduled for pick up, I receive emails from L.with small lists of things, needed and wanted. Clothing, snacks, DVDs, her graphing calculator from high school, and various other requests. The same bag made the trip just after the New Year and returned stuffed with items no longer needed in Florence; lots of souvenirs and things she'll put in a scrapbook chronicling her travels through Europe, plus clothing that she was tired of wearing.I always tuck a small note in the suitcase wishing her well. Even though we chat frequently day to day, putting pen to paper, folding the note and putting the sealed envelope inside the bag does something to me. Today it made me miss her all the more. She's been away since early September and won't be home until early May. Her time away has been important for us both; she has become so much more independent and I've had to learn to let go. Sometimes we "push-pull" this process; I become overbearing just when she's trying to spread her wings and then she'll suddenly seem to need my every bit of advice on an issue just when I'm trying to surrender her to forging her own experience. Maybe that's what mothers and daughters do; I don't know. No one talks about it much.
Bottom line: I miss her.
I take pleasure in unpacking this little suitcase and re-packing it with whatever is on that list. This time much of the space is taken up by items that will not need to make the return journey to Seattle come May. Things like Rolled Gold pretzels, Tim's Cascade potato chips, and Better Chedder crackers are tastes of home amidst all the amazing cuisine of Europe. And, that's good because she's already got so much stuff to drag home that much of it will get left behind at the pensione for lack of luggage capacity. All those textbooks, school supplies, bedding and the like may come in useful for the students arriving this fall to start out the next season of study abroad in Florence. Recycled goods; why not?
Safe journeys.
Ah, how sweet. We just took a call from our 20 year old son, back in his apartment in Brooklyn after a trip to Europe with his girlfiend. He was telling us about various living arrangements, his classes, his idea to join the local Y and I was just so impressed with his independence and sense of self-sufficiency. But then he asked us some advice - my husband about grades and professors, and me about a cooking thing. And I was just so pleased to realize that he is a real grown-up, but that he values us, too.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was 23, I moved to Tunisia for a year, then Mexico for two, and Thailand for three. It was the best time to travel. I'm sure your daughter is gaining invaluable experiences. And Florence is so incredibly beautiful. What luck for her! I hope you get to visit.
ReplyDeleteThere is definately a separation process and going away to school is a natural way to facilitate it. It is hard on both ends but I think it made my relationship with my mom even stronger, though it looked very different.
ReplyDeleteThis push-pull between mothers and daughters is a fascinating subject. One in which many women would be drawn to, I think.
ReplyDeleteI know that getting that little handwritten note is like a tiny piece of you there.
Kate - I came across this post by poet Joy Harjo and it made me think of your post here.
ReplyDeletehttp://joyharjo.blogspot.com/2009/01/breaking-illusions.html