By Pam MansellHerald Writer
By Pam Mansell
Herald Writer
IF A FEW sentences here seem a tad incoherent, or if I occasionally careen
off on a subject for no apparent reason, there's good reason for that. My body
may be sitting at the desk, and my fingers may be tapping at the keyboard, but
part of my mind _ especially the mothering, worrying part _ is somewhere in Greece.
Cate, our 20-year-old daughter who has a passion for classical studies, has
been in Athens since June 9, part of a group studying Greek history, learning a
little Greek language, and exploring Greek ruins. After that she's doing some
independent traveling, visiting Italy, Germany, Austria, and Hungary, soaking
in sites she's dreamed about a long time.
She was going to make this trip last year, until some health problems made
it necessary to cancel those plans. I remember thinking at the time that this
wasn't exactly a calamity from my point of view, and that I would be MUCH more
prepared to have her go away when she was 20 rather than 19.
News flash: there is no such thing as being prepared for your daughter to
go that far away for the first time.
Oh, we were prepared in terms of supplies and necessities. There were
travelers' checks and credit cards, a large back pack instead of a suitcase for
easier traveling, a youth Eurail pass to take advantage of Europe's inexpensive
train travel, the international student I.D. card, a youth hostel I.D. card,
wash-and-wear clothes, and stacks of other things I can no longer remember.
Yes, we were prepared.
Yet, a half hour before she boarded the plane that would take her to
England and then to Athens, none of us _ daughter, mother, or father _ was
prepared at all.
``I don't know if I really want to go,'' Cate said then, her eyes filling
with tears as a little fear of the unknown temporarily eclipsed the thrill of
the coming adventure.
``You'll be fine once you're on the plane,'' I reassured her, in my best
soothing motherly tones. I should get an acting award for that scene, because
what I really wanted to say was, ``Great! Forget the trip! Come back home with
us, where I know you're safe _ where I can fall asleep at night knowing I'll
see you in the morning.''
She left, as she should, and e-mail and phone calls since then assure us
she's having an exciting time, and is awed by the history around her. She's
coping with different food, different language, different money, and different
values, and sometimes, when she calls, the strain shows in her voice. Most of
the time, though, I hear the unmistakable tone of growing self-confidence.
She's learning a lot _ and not all of it is through the course she's taking.
I'm learning a lot, too. I'm learning to adjust to the idea that maybe Cate
can survive without my in-person care. I'm learning to worry less _ but not a
lot less, yet. And I'm learning to live in two time zones, to wake up at 6:30
in the morning and know instantly that it's 1:30 in the afternoon in Athens;
that my coffee break at 11 means Cate's eating supper; and that at 5 in the
afternoon she's probably fast asleep and I can relax. A little.
Pam Mansell covers New Wilmington for The Herald.