Manicure day with the Abuelas
Machu Picchu
I was nervous. I had made a decision and was questioning my timing. It was a dear friend who told me the words I needed to hear and will not forget.
“The angel on your shoulder is saying, ‘Just go, Mama.’”
And so I am. I leave for Warsaw, Poland, in a few days, where I’ll be teaching English to Polish and Ukrainian children. I’ve not been on a trip without a family member or friend on the other end of my journey, and I’m nervous. I started waffling. Was it too soon? Could I do this? It will probably always feel too soon, but I wanted to feel the spark of joy that comes from immersing myself in different cultures as a volunteer. I felt Emery’s familiar nudge, as if she was seated right next to me on the couch telling me I could and I should.
17 years ago, Emery graduated from high school a semester early and decided we needed to go to Perú. First, to see Machu Picchu, she told me, then to volunteer. Our priorities flipped after spending a month volunteering with the elderly in one of Lima’s poorest districts. As excited as we were to explore more of Perú, we both admitted that we would trade Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, and the Amazon for two more weeks of volunteering (thankfully, we didn’t). Our shifting attitudes surprised us both. We were unwrapping a gift that neither of us knew existed; a gift that would change who we were and how we saw the world.
Although Emery talked about Paris and shopping at the flea markets and lingering at sidewalk cafes, it was Perú that caught her attention. I was awed by my 18-year-old daughter’s decision. Paris would come later, she told me. We were getting close to that later part now that both of her children were in school. So close.
She nudged me then, and she is nudging me now.
Just go, Mama.