Day 25: Moon and Mom

It’s 4:30 a.m. in Dakar. I just came down from our rooftop. I planned to rise early anyway. I wanted to see the crescent moon and Jupiter, which are lined up in the eastern sky. The sky is perfect this morning. It’s clear. The air blowing off the Atlantic is fresh. The tide must be coming in because the surf is crashing mightily.

It’s Mother’s Day. I wish I had a photo of Elsie that I could share. I don’t. Instead, I’ll post this one of Nathalie and Seal, which was taken a couple of days ago when we went for a walk along the rocky coast of our neighborhood.

It’s been fun and provocative for me to live with a 15 month-old. Seal's in the stage of his life where everything is interesting (in particular, electrical outlets), every action is mimicked (especially dancing and sweeping), everything can be eaten or at least put in his mouth (most recently, tomato slices) and many behaviors require reinforcement or correction. It’s also been fascinating to live with Nathalie and to observe first-hand the mother-child relationship. Many of Seal’s impressions of the world start with Nathalie's reactions to his exploration. She gives him space to explore, to touch, to taste, to engage…always ready to pull him back from the brink but also ready to let him find his own way.

Today, as I’m thinking about moms in general, and mine in particular, I’m more aware than ever that my physical resemblance to my mother may be more than skin deep, that my relationship to the world may—and probably does—reflect my own mother’s affinities and fears. I don't recall how much space there was to fall, get dirty, take chances, make mistakes and wander when I was growing up, enough that when I left at 18, I didn't look back or go home for a long time.

I once asked Mom why she and Dad didn't ask us to come home for visits or holidays. Her response surprised me: "I didn't want you to come back because I didn't think there was anything here for you."

As always, lots to think about.