A Slice of Life

A Start

What a perfect long weekend. I accomplished so many things. My front porch has been scrubbed clean, my homes' interior has been cleaned, I've yanked some weeds, I've been to a concert, had dinner with some of my dearest friends and now I look forward to a day of sunning at the pool and yanking more weeds.

I sit here and think life is as close to perfect as it can get. Caroline is healthy and a fairly reasonable teen, my sweet little dog and cat are healthy and happy and I am relishing this one moment where I'm tucked into my bed with the cat asleep at my feet, a mug of coffee by my side and feeling at peace with the world.

Sardines

My friend and I sat enveloped by the magic of Chicago last night. We took the El downtown to go to a concert in Millennium Park to hear Oumou Sangare, an African woman whose voice is just transporting. We settled into our spot and sipped wine and ate sardines and feta cheese on saltines, munched on nectarines and concluded the evening with a bag of M&Ms each. Heaven. Absolute heaven.

Waiting

There are those nights, when my bed looks so good, but I need to delay getting in it. My daughter is out and I feel compelled to wait up as part of my motherly duty. Those are the nights when I miss having a husband. I miss the companionship and the warmth that such a relationship can bring. And when I sit on the couch waiting, the longing for that someone creeps up on me and seems to put me in a stranglehold that I just can't shake until I can finally go to sleep.

It is very hard raising a teenager alone and it is something I would never wish on anyone. I make all the decisions and I literally pray that they are correct. Tonight I am tired and tomorrow will be better. Perhaps she will need to just stay in.

Floating

One of the best things about the last week was floating in the Atlantic Ocean staring into the sky with my daughter next to me and the two of us holding hands. There is nothing more satisfying that has happened to me in years than those precious minutes where she sought my hand, grabbed it and held on as we road the waves on our backs.

Being a teenage is about breaking free from your parent's metaphorical umbilical cord. Like every other kid her age, she is pushing boundaries, matching wills and trying to establish herself separate from me.

But then there are those moments. Those glorious moments when she seeks me out. In the ocean, she just wanted to be close to me and hold my hand and float in the bliss of the ocean. There are those nights when it's late and I'm drifting off to sleep and I hear her climbing up the stairs and then feel the covers lifting off the bed and her body sliding in next mine. I don't acknowledge it because calling attention to it would embarrass her and then she would stop. But I am quietly thrilled that she still looks for me and needs the physical proximity.

Sometimes being a parent of an adolescent can make me feel like the biggest idiot and most repulsive creature. There are so many flaws in my being -- physically and intellectually -- and my sweet child is so quick to point them out. But when those infrequent moments when she wants me manifest, the slate between us is wiped clean and I forget the slights. I just unfold and welcome her in.

Heading home

It is the last full day on Tybee and it's cloudy. My sister and my two nephews are on their way into Savannah to take the trolley tour. I am sitting here while my daughter sleeps and thinking about how to spend the day. It's been a restorative vacation and I am ready to re-enter the world. It's been a perfect blend of beach and other activities. I am brown and relaxed and look forward to the two day drive home.

I would love to live here some day. I miss being so close to the ocean and I love the blend of a small beautiful ecletic city with the  pace of the seaside life. It is also interesting that we vacationed the week of the summer solstice where day and night are equally balanced. It's suppose to be a time when everything is illuminated and for me, at least, it has been that sort of vacation.

Tybee Island

I sit here on the couch in the living room of this charming little cottage my sister and I have rented to vacation with our three kids -- my one and her two. It's called Norah's Cottage and from the little shrine to her in this room, I gather that she was quite a woman. There's her nameplate from her desk, a set of keys, her recipe files and a collection of books that makes me believe she was studying life's great mystery: life itself.

Her two sons renovated this tiny place after her death and decorated it in the most whimsical and elegant style. We are in love with this tidy and compact home and this island. The beach is short walk down the road and up a walkway and once you rise above the dunes you look out onto this expanse of beach and ocean. It's breathtaking. You can watch the Pelicans fly over and every once in a while a brave soul parasailing comes flying by.

This vacation is perfect. There is no schedule. There is the occasion whining child. There is little to distract us from being at the beach and being with each other. Today, I slept until 10:30 a.m. Drank instant coffee on the front porch and then tugged on my swim suit and headed to the beach to join the rest of the family. I floated in the ocean for a long, long time just chatting with my sister and my daughter and playing with my nephews. Then I laid on the sand for a long time returning to the water when I became just a little too hot. When the others left to go back to the cottage, I stayed behind to enjoy the beach and contemplate life and its mysteries. And I reaffirmed that everything is just perfect in this moment and in this place. I am with the ones I love most in this world and everyone is safe and happy. What more is there?

Rainy Saturday

It's a rainy Saturday and I have three slumbering teenage girls in my living room sprawled on the pull out couch. The weather has been pretty gray ever since I returned from Jekyll Island more than 10 days ago. But for some reason, I have not been bothered by it. In fact, I am sort of enjoying the respite from the sun because on the rare occasions where it has peaked out it been such a stunning gift.

I am actually grateful for the rain because there is so much I need to accomplish between now and next Thursday evening when my daughter and I leave from Savannah.

Teenagers

Are teenagers nothing more than large, articulate toddlers? Fifteen year olds seem to have about as much sense as 15 month olds.

This year has been tortuous as a parent of a teenager. I am tired, frustrated, confused and at my wit's end. I remember my sophomore year in high school and I think I was every bit as unpleasant and pugnacious as my sweet daughter. O I love her to bits and would lay down in front of freight train to save her life, but she does try my patience. Between the teeter-totter grades and the exploits of young, romantic and perilously unsafe love I am ready for the retirement home. There should be a special one for parents who have made it through the teen years.

Now, I am counting each of my bountiful blessings. First I have just one child so that means just one bumpy flight through the teen years. She truly is a good kid. I know where she is most of the time -- 95 percent of the time. She is willing to be seen with me in public. She does not roam the streets after I've fallen asleep at night. And on occasion she is nice to me and is willing to watch a movie together.

But I would not wish these years on any one. I now understand and can empathize with my mother's angst six times over. Tomorrow is her last day of school for the year and I feel older. I implored my sister to study my face and tell me if it's aged. She claims it hasn't. I see that it has. My roots are grayer when they come sprouting up. I think the day after my darling graduates from high school, I will commence my own search for the fountain of youth so I can be renewed.

Homeward Bound

Tomorrow I fly home to Chicago. Right now I'm sitting in my sister's family room with my 10-year-old nephew half watching Lion King 2 and half paying attention to this little thing I'm writing.

I look forward to going home tomorrow and seeing my daughter who hung up the phone on me tonight because I refused to let her sleep over at a friend's home whose mother permits boys to sleep over too. She also told me that I was too focused on her grades.  Oh well, blessed parenthood as my mother used to say.

We had a wonderful time on our Atlantic Ocean get away. It was restful and uneventful except for a few comical interludes with some of the strangest male characters my sister and I have ever met.

We are tanned and looking forward to reuniting in a little over two weeks to head to Tybee Island with our children in tow. This time we've rented a little cottage with a screened in porch and an outdoor shower just a couple blocks from the beach. It should be a fun trip.

In Residence at Patricia's

I am almost gleeful to be in residence at my sweet sister Patricia's home. I had a wonderful flight with no one beside me so I could spread out with my reading material and just lose myself to the vagaries of American business and the economy and all the other dish Business Week and Fortune offer about the state of corporate affairs. I was greeted by my two cherub nephews and my sister at the airport and here I am. Sitting in Georgia, in bed, with my laptop and looking forward to four days on the Atlantic Ocean -- home.

Back in Chicago are my daughter and work. For a week I can live without both so that I can return renewed and pick up the threads of my Midwestern life once again. It's a nice feeling to go solo every so often and have nothing to think about except whether the sun will be out and at exactly what time I can have my first cocktail of the day.