A Mother's Love

I’ve been engaged in the preliminary aspects of my daughter’s college applications process. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful daughter, and  I’ll elaborate upon a mother’s love as I know it, but not before noting my present emotional state around my motherhood which is that I am struggling; struggling with this milestone in my daughter’s life that leads her further away from me. She has been the primary focus of my existence since her conception; about 18 years now. It is difficult for me to fathom my life redirected—much more difficult than it is for her to imagine her next step. It is an exciting time for her. It is a time when being her mother means embracing her exuberant leap toward independence while trying desperately to conceal my sorrow for the loss of my life’s purpose over nearly two decades. I suppose I should see it as just another completed project, and break out the balloons and whistles, but it is…just different, and while I know what my role and responsibility to her at this time are, it is a time peppered with bittersweet emotion that can move me from laughter to tears with no warning whatsoever as trailers of our lives flash through my mind.

It appears that it is not too early to claim a victory in that my daughter is a well-adjusted, thriving 17.3 year-old, rising high school senior with high ambitions scheduled for 5 out of 8 Advanced Placement courses in her senior year and with a primary goal of nothing other than learning. What is to question? What is not to love? To boot, she is a gifted technical vocalist (according to the state of Delaware) with not only a beautiful face, but a sensational sense of humor, and a keen knowledge that these are subjective to the opinion of the observer, with whom; she is not particularly concerned. Abigail, my daughter, is quite an amazing and intriguing individual.

I’ve heard many a pregnant mother talk about the innate love they have for their unborn child. I can’t speak to that. I only know that while I felt keenly responsible for the well-being of my unborn child, I definitely did not have the same love for her in the womb that I have for her now.  I did take great care of her even relinquishing caffeine as she was in utero and throughout her nursing year. I ate well. I was physically careful with myself as I carried and nursed her. Her well-being became my primary focus, and that has not changed to date, while my love for her has developed, grown, and deepened immeasurably with each passing year.

I’ve also known mothers who lived vicariously through their children. I’ve not done that. It has been of much greater interest to me to know who my daughter really is and to nurture all the she is intended to be. I’m comfortable that I’ve done that. I spent a great deal of time and energy exposing her to every sport including swimming, soccer, gymnastics, snow-skiing, tee-ball, baseball, field hockey, lacrosse, horseback riding, and tennis.

 I exposed her to the arts. Her first music class was at 12 months. She completed every level of Kindermusic  followed by choir from grade two to present.  Abigail is a placing state-wide competitive soprano I vocalist. She also has practiced karate, dance, piano, steel drums, musical theater, drama not to mention bass guitar and, most recently, ukulele-- both purely self-imposed.  Abi has auditioned and won community theater roles as well as professional voice-over and film work. She has done various forms of fine arts including drawing, painting, and sculpting, clay and pottery making.  She’s knitted, crocheted, sewn, and made quilts. She’s been exposed to all genres of writing, and won district-wide writing awards as early as third grade.  Most of all, Abigail has been an avid reader with an affinity for fantasy, and she has excelled at languages with an emphasis on English and French from age three. Yet, Abigail mostly loves science, and her love of science drove her to math.

Not only has Abigail been exposed to an array of sports, arts, and academics, but she also was exposed to a rigid schedule of Christian education from birth through grade 8, and Girl Scouting from Kindergarten through grade 6. She knows the Bible stories (both Testaments,) and she can survive in the woods over the weekend in about any weather orienting herself along the way and navigating back to civilization. She has traveled enough of the U.S. and Europe to know that landscapes, time zones, seasons, climates, languages, and cultures vary, and that people are really just people anywhere she goes, and she has a great deal of respect and reverence for diversity.

As my daughter completes her summer AP work, pursues her college applications process, and anticipates the rigors of her senior year that she has planned, I have no doubts about her preparedness for this next phase of her life, yet I don’t even know how I feel about my own. I do know that to date I’ve upheld my definition of motherhood, and I do know that it includes a love that is different from all other forms of love. There is nothing quite like it, and I’m not so sure that there is enough of me to have done multiples so it is probably a wise decision that I limited myself to just one daughter for she is most certainly sufficient.

Bend with the Wind

I’ve mentioned before the importance of flexibility; not only where travel is concerned, and, particularly with travel. Reflecting upon the last several days I  have a splendid opportunity to share with you a classic example of what I mean when I say it is best to begin with a plan infused with a spirit of flexibility when the goal is to be nothing less than fully, and I really do mean, fully satisfied with an overall travel experience.  

My daughter was nominated and selected to attend the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine held in the DC area over the ten-day period encompassing the weekend preceding Independence Day, 2012. In fact, I was to pick her up in Northern Virginia at 10AM on July 3rd. Given that DC/Northern Virginia is on the direct path to my relatives in southwestern Virginia, and given the fact that the week would be a slower one at work, I decided to take Friday off as a travel day to head all the way down to Mayodan, NC to visit lifelong friends for a couple of days before making my way back to hit my mom and sister in Martinsville, my other sister in Lynchburg, and then make my way further north to pick up Abigail on the way home to Wilmington, Delaware. Now, this would be plain leisurely over five days. See, how I’m planning?  Got my big, 7 to 8-hour driving day on the front end and making my way back 2 to 3 hours at a time. I know they are expecting a 100+ degree heat wave,  and my air conditioning is working so all is well.

I’m going to highlight a couple of things that occurred at each stop that made my experience remarkable. I wish I had photos for everything, but I’m really ineffective at remembering that I have everything I need to document  “a moment” on my cell phone. One thing is for sure, I wish I had a picture of the flounder sandwich that I had in Madison, NC with my friend at a diner. It looked amazing, and I could not help but devour every single morsel because it was by far the very best fish sandwich I have encountered and served by the very best diner waitress I have ever encountered. Now, understand how significant that is. I’m from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I will guarantee you I’ve been in some killer diners including the one where my dad took my mom on their first date. This woman, at Airport Drive-In Restaurant in Madison, with her bleached blonde hair, pink lipstick, extraordinary, greenish-grey eyes, and beaming personality…well, because of her and her recommendation for the flounder sandwich, the super cool diner experience gets an honorable mention on my recent trip south.

Then, back in Mayodan, NC, I had the utter privilege of learning to make pizza dough while enjoying a wine tasting, and conversing about everything from soup to hay with a friend I’ve known for over three decades. After that, I had the pleasure of dining on some of the best pizza I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to make some myself! It doesn’t stop there, I got to leave with a jar of 14-day Icicle Pickles grown and canned by the Mayodan folks.

I head into Martinsville, just 30 minutes north to find that my mom is displaced from her home due to an extended power outage. I track her down. You can do that sort of thing in small towns like where I grew up. By now her power is back on, and she is both surprised and delighted to know that I’m in town. You may wonder how she didn’t know I was coming into town. Well, I’ve taken to surprising her with visits over the past couple of years. First, it’s fun for her, and then,  I love the giddiness it evokes in her when I make my regular call and a few minutes into the conversation ask her, “Well, are ya’ gonna let me in, or just leave me standing on the porch?” Good times, I tell you, to see her bright smile as she flings open the door, phone still to her ear.

Things didn't go down quite that way this time, and it was no less fun. This time I tracked her down at a friend’s home and said, “Boy, you sure do have a lot of dishes stacked up in your dish drainer, and there’s no food whatsoever in your refrigerator.” She was taken aback and responded, “Yeah, I had to bring all my food here because we lost power, but how do you know?” So, then I tell her I am standing in her kitchen. Mama's kept a key outside her house since we started locking the doors at night or when we left the house. I guess I was maybe 10 years old when we started locking up, and hiding a key in most obvious place imaginable. She says it's because otherwise she'll forget where it is. Naturally, she rushed home as happy as I've ever seen her.

From Martinsville, I was to begin my trip back north through Lynchburg where my sister lives. As I’m about to leave for her home I am notified that the storms have taken out not only power to most of the Lynchburg area, but one report states that there is no access into or out of Lynchburg due to fallen trees and closed roads. My sister, luckily, had gone to her vacation home in Tennessee, and while she had intended to return over the weekend, the weather coupled with a bit of car trouble disrupted her timing and plans. Now, at this point I suppose I could have called the whole trip a failure, and maybe I would have except that I knew it was not. I had already had nothing less than wonderful experiences, and while so many were at this very same time suffering with no electricity in dangerous heat, I hadn't broken a sweat. I certainly had nothing to complain about.

Considering that I had also received a notification from the leadership of the forum my daughter was attending that the program had moved to the center of DC on Pennsylvania Avenue-- also due to these far reaching power outages, I decided I might want to bend with the wind and head north as it now seemed that the better part of the state of Virginia was suffering power outages in 100+ degree heat with no fix in sight for days. 

I made it into DC where my daughter was staying within about five hours. I found reasonably-priced accommodations just five blocks from the ridiculously expensive hotel where my daughter was spending her time. My overnight stay at the Marriott Courtyard located at 9th and F Streets was the perfect locaton for walking which is exactly what you want to do in DC. The folks at the forum had offered a $20. parking credit due to the location change mid-stream. I figured with that I could justify using the valet service which was really the same cost as me fooling around with hunting down a garage for the night. Either way, it would be about $40. so I just got real grateful for being reimbursed for half of my parking costs.

Upon unloading the vehicle on the valet attendants, I got a relaxing shower, prayed for all of the people who were without power and displaced from their homes, and went for a walk dropping in at the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the International Spy Museum before having a light dinner and returning to my room for a good night’s rest. I decided to have breakfast at a beautiful French bistro/bakery I had seen on my evening walk about town. I just couldn’t get that place out of my mind. The little French bistro gets an honorable mention for the trip. I do have some photos of it because I had my camera with me. Of course, I nearly always have a sufficiently good camera with me, but I forget because I call it my cell phone.  Anyhow, look at this place, and then I’ll tell you about the absolutely delicious breakfast I had at Le Pain Quotidien while listening to the best of classical piano by composers of the 18th century.

Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Pastries, Breads

The Communal Table

I had this beautiful omelette with wild mushrooms and goat cheese topped with olive oil and basil.  I loved the fresh  mixed greens  to start the day, and the bread was, of course, outstanding.

This is the great little story card they delivered with my check. This is an $11.95 breakfast. Below is the story that appears inside the card.

In the beginning

It seems fitting that the story of Le Pain Quotidien begins in a kitchen.  Standing tiptoe on a stool, a small boy reaches up to the counter to help his aunt make her pastries. Many years later, and several feet taller, the same boy is at work in a fine Brussels restaurant, preparing food for his guests.

But one morning, he decides that the bread being served could be much better.  Perhaps he recalls the afternoon spent in his aunt's kitchen, or the recipes his grandmother had taught him. In any case, he perfects his own bread recipe of only flour, water and salt, and opens a bakery on Rue Dansaert in the fashionable heart of Brussels.

The boy's name? Alain Coumont.

The next challenge was to find a name for the bakery. During an ordinary conversation, Alain's father exclaimed "ce n'est pas mon pain quotidien!" meaning literally "it's not my daily bread." Alain remembered the phrase a few weeks later and used this expression for the name of his new business.


After breakfast I walked down the street to meet and sign out Abigail from the custody of the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine. She, wheeling her luggage along behind her, talked non-stop all the way back to our vehicle about her extraordinary learning experience, and I listened with great interest as she injected her stories with her intelligent humor as she tends to do. We called for the car, loaded it up with our bags, and she pulled up the GPS guide on her phone. She hopped in the driver's seat, and as we headed out of the city, she began to talk incessantly about her college and career plans, the friendships she had made, and the details of her educational experience, never once giving any thought to the fact that she was navigating Washington, DC traffic and the significance of that as a fairly new driver.

At one point she mentioned that several of the youth called their parents and left the program as they endured the power outage prior to relocating to metro DC. I was surprised that parents would cater to their kid's retreating so quickly when faced with unforeseen/unplanned adversity that requires nothing but a little flexibility. I told Abi as much. She agreed, and expressed her gratitude that she is able to go with the flow and roll with Plan B, bend with the wind when things aren't going exactly as planned. She noted that all those who "weathered the storm" couldn't help snickering when they walked into the JW Marriott there at 13th and Pennsylvania Avenue (down the street from the White House) where I didn't stay because the lowest price there is $399.00 plus tax per night! I gathered their new accommodations were quite a few steps up from where they began their program. Kudos to the NYLF team and the youth who completed the program, for knowing how to travel with a plan infused with a spirit of flexibility.