Forgiving myself

Dear Sophia,

Many thanks for your last letter. I didn’t write this week because my daughter and son were here. They study (medicine and engineering, respectively) in my home country, where free access to education still means something. As I see them once or twice a year only – I separated when they  were only 7 and 9 years old – our holiday was intense.

Our times together always are. I used to take them to exotic places – preferably adventures far out in the wild, like a trek, or on the cycle or motorbike, or even a climb – but, now that they are grown up and studying, holidays together are one or two weeks only, and so we went for a city trip: we visited New York and Washington. What great cities ! It is surely not our last holiday together, but the frequency, and the time we’ll spend together, are likely to further decrease. In fact, my daughter told me she wants to go on a trek alone (or, preferably, with a friend) this summer.

It made me happy and sad at the same time. Happy because that’s what you want your kids to do: travel, explore. But sad too because it rubs it in: I was largely absent as they grew up.

We don’t always talk about that but, from time to time, we do. Today is the last day. They’re showering right now, and will then pack to leave for the airport. I woke them up this morning, and we spent some time chatting in bed cozying up altogether. They’ve been urging to forgive myself for all I did wrong, and today I did – I think. It felt liberating.

I won’t write too much about it here – it’s a bit too intimate right now, I feel – but… Well… I thought about your words this morning:

“I pledge to honor this gift by working to perfect my practice. Documenting this journey, the good, the bad and the ugly. I ask in advance to continue your insight, inspiration and of course, to call me on my bullshit when you see it.”

You should call me on my bullshit too ! Stay strong !



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