No Slow Boat

In twenty-four hours, my fifteen-year-old daughter, Bard, will be setting down in Chicago on a one-hour layover before getting back on a plane to San Francisco. From there, she will cross the Pacific and, through the miracle of flight and the mystery of time, she will find herself half-way around the world before dinnertime.

While in China, she will see things I've only read about in books, and things I've never known existed. She will see The Great wall, The Forbidden city, Tian'Anmen Square, the Panda Garden at Beijing Zoo, the Summer Palace, and spend an afternoon at a Chinese school.She'll eat Peking Duck and sip Dragon-well tea. She'll shop in the new Silk Alley or some other free market, maybe picking up dolls for her sisters, coins for her brothers, jewelry for her mother and something dad-like for her dad. She'll sing with her choral ensemble, lifting her voice in the Bach B Minor Mass at the Forbidden City Concert Hall.

I have an itinerary. I'll know where she'll be almost every minute of the day. But I'll worry anyway. Needlessly, I'm told. But still, I'll worry.

What mother wouldn't?

And can I admit that I'll be jealous? Well, I will. As a child, the furthest I traveled with my family was Niagara Falls and the most frequent vacation was to visit my mother's relatives in the hills and hollers of West Virginia. I've never seen The Grand Canyon or Mount Rushmore. I've never been to Disney Land, Disney World or even to Florida. I've been to Nag's Head three times in my adult life but never had good weather, so the beach experience doesn't exist for me. I've never been to New England or New Mexico. In my adult life, I threw two kids in my new green Jeep, a third baby growing in my belly, and drove across the country, staying in Youth Hostels along the way, to visit my dear friend who was lost and lonely living in Texas. That was the most I'd ever seen of my country, making a loop that included Chicago, St. Louis, Hot Springs, Little Rock, Shreveport, New Orleans, and Chatanooga. It was a wonderful adventure I'll never forget. At the time, I must have endlessly worried and counted pennies, but now I can't even remember what it cost, only what it paid--memories that will last my lifetime and longer.

I ran into a woman the other day that I have always thought of as somewhat of a friend. We don't visit often, but when we see each other, we chat and laugh and she makes me feel good to talk to. I was buying rice and noodles at Sam's Club. She had driven an hour to return a pair of sandals for her son. I was weighing purchasing options for Bard's China wardrobe, and she told me she was leaving for a family cruise to San Juan for her daughter's graduation. That's when I knew. I could never be friends with this woman. What in the world would we ever discuss?

I have fantasies of traveling the country with my whole family in a big ol' RV, like The Kirkwoods have done. But then again, there's much to see here, in my own back yard.

Still, I'll be worried and, yes, more than a bit jealous as I watch my daughter fly away tomorrow morning, her view of the earth growing smaller and smaller, while I stand with my feet rooted firmly on the ground.

But I'll also be doggone proud of her.