On Father's Day

After two days with the movers packing us up, loading up the truck, and shipping us out, well not quite yet, but soon, cleaning, clearing, and removing all traces of us in our former home (except for the man Lily drew on the front patio in pencil just hours after the house painters had left or the "hearts and stars" Virginie added to the otherwise dull hallway walls that one has to discover like the paintings at Lascaux), it seems that we can leave Barbados without a trace.  This Father's Day morning, Didier said to me, "In ten days, we will be in Florida."  He was contemplative, thoughtful, and quiet as he watched the girls run ahead of us on the boardwalk along the South Coast of the island where we have relocated for the time being.  He loves those people I am sure more than he knew he would, probably even knew he could, and it is for them that he worries about our next step.  When they took to the condo quickly and easily, feeling excited about the elevators, in house washer and dryer, balconies with views of the sea, I saw him sigh with relief.

As parents, we want to create a safe place for our children, no matter where we live or where we are, a place inside of them that reminds them that they are loved, honored, and cared for.  They are little kids, under five, though Lily will turn five at the end of July, and I get all kinds of advice and info from well meaning individuals about the resilience of children and how these experiences will make them great.  Well, I do believe all that to be true.  I am thankful that Lily and even Virginie, have an international perspective from living abroad and from being the product of a bi-cultural union, but the other reality, the unspoken part, is that we give a damn enough to put their feelings, their fears, their perspective, if not first then at least on the table.  I care that Lily gets to finish the school year with her classmates, that she sees that saying goodbye and accepting change are difficult but also important parts of the human experience.  I want her to know that I too am afraid but that it certainly is not her fault and that she does not need to take on my insecurity. 


So I am insecure as hell about our future and a little scared, but other than picking up on small clues, she is not going to get the freak out/alienation from me.  I think that that is one of the hardest things about parenting, about leading and teaching a small child to feel secure and safe.  Just because I am worried, scared, confused, does not mean that I need to put that burden on my children.  In these tense scary moments, one can be withholding, because of fear, or one can try, against it all, to show love, love, love and compassion.  Lily knows we are moving, is even adjusting to it quite well.  She is kissed and hugged and reassured every day with storytime, visits to the beach and locales not yet visited and tried and true spots.  The other afternoon we walked through the St. Lawrence Gap, just Lily and me, holding hands and talking about our interests and our desires, and I felt her ease.  I did too.


In all of us there is a tiny place, right at the solar plexus, where we know ourselves and one can hope that in there are stores of feelings of love, adequacy, concern, respect, connection, community, family.  It is a place reserved, set aside, saved for a tiny soul by its welcoming parents, where one can return when the world is upside down and chaos seems to reign.  That place is beautiful and warm and secure.  That, THAT is our job.  We must show our children that place or each and every transition in life will be fraught with tension, confusion, fear.  I must give them the tools to trust their instincts, but also to know and believe that their father and I are completely in their corner.


The girls made Father's Day cards for Didier and drew pictures of him holding their hands.  We took him for brunch at a restaurant called Tapas, right on the coast, and we sat looking out at the turquoise blue sea.  He got to sleep in until 7:30, which is like noon in our house.  The day before, we visited the Graeme Hall Sanctuary, a gorgeous spread of land with a pond of monster carp, monkeys running about, and flamingos and ibis preening in the sun.  It, like so much in Barbados, is locked in a political battle between its owner and the government of Barbados that doesn't want to fund the project, but would rather free up the land to build more condos and expensive properties for no one to live in.  It's a real shame and a tragedy, the place is a thing of beauty.   It provides peace and sanctuary, hence its name.  We can only hope that we do the same for our children.  Provide them with peace and sanctuary when life is crazy, when there is joy to celebrate, when there is love to share, when there is something to overcome.

If you did it, are doing it, if you have made the difference, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. If you think you might do more, try a bit harder, make amends, make it right, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. If you get it, if you see, if you know that your love makes a difference for the rest of that child's life, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY. And if you just couldn't step up, didn't do it, you still have time to be one of the greats. Show up for the next Father's Day.



(c)  Copyright 2011.  City Mom in the Jungle.