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Saturday and the advent of the trip to Rio …

February 16, 2013

Cecilia flag

Today marks the advent of our trip to Brazil; in 4 weeks time we visit our daughter and her partner in Rio.  It is a year since seeing her and our last visit so it is going to be a very happy reunion.

Looking back over the last year can be likened to looking at a masterpiece in the National Gallery or the feeling one has when finishing the final chapters of a gripping tale.  The mind is awash with images of all the emotions conceivable; and the brain finds a way to balance and untangle the messages and dispense a valid opinion; Good book or bad? Painting, wonderful or not?  Has the year been a success or failure?  Or indeed somewhere in between?
Of course the result can only be assessed moment by moment and I tell you some moments and often for days the feelings were total despair especially during family festivals; like Christmas and the New Year when the empty space seemed so vast and  I thought the world would end.
My daughter tells me as it is; good or bad with a traumatic thrust she would unload her troublesome monkey. Then she carries on her life without a care or so it seems.  While I doggedly carry the weight of the accumulated despair. Each problem becomes enlarged and attaches itself directly or indirectly to the last.   So you get the picture; a mother and daughter relationship across the Atlantic Ocean is not a bed of roses.
Or is it?
I have had more intimate conversations about a skein of silk, a pearl button, a statue on the beach at Ipanema or indeed a vast array of unconnected Brazilian joys  than 100 mothers might have in a lifetime. The postman has brought unexpected  parcels smothered with a patchwork of postage stamps containing exotic snippets of Rio de Janeiro  and poems of love.  My daughter heaped me with words of Cecilia Meireles. Elizabeth Bishop and Clarice Lispector and more;  so I will never be alone.
Moment by moment a journey or expedition to the work, the beach, into the city or merely to the kitchen to make a pot of tea in either country is monitored between mobile phones; snapshots of life and love span the airways in a flurry of richness and joy.  So patchwork quilt  seems a good allegory; there are some bittersweet images in each richly embroidered patch … 

As I prepare for this oncoming day I will relish every moment as if it were my last.  As I have attempted to allow each retched lonely moment  ‘to be’ … then the next few weeks I am going to wallow in expectancy with love.

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