Sometimes I sit back and am able to count my blessings and amongst the ones I count as most important are my two wonderful children. They both live in San Francisco so I don't see them very often, but we manage to stay very connected via telephone and e-mail. I often think of them with such longing and today is one of those days.
I spoke to each of them at the weekend. They called to wish me a happy birthday. I was very aware of how far away they are. They also sent e-mail cards. In so many cases this could seem impersonal, but it's always a delightful, very personal surprise when they send cards that they've designed.
Both of my kids are graphic designers. I know, I know, how lucky am I to have such talented offspring? Each of them has developed and matured the talents they displayed as youngsters. It's satisfying as a parent to watch your children grow and fulfill the promise I knew they had. I miss them horribly today.
When my son was tiny, his sister moved away and never really lived in the same place as her brother for many years. Actually, they didn't really live together as brother and sister till about two years ago when my son moved to California and they wound up sharing a flat. This, I recognise, is an unusual occurrence. Most brothers and sisters are not that close. There is a large age gap between them and its nice for me, as their mum, to see them caring for each other and being so close. They seem to have found a way to live independently and still together and I believe there's a real respect between them.
Once, many years ago, my mother spoke to me about how hard it was to have me living so far away. Well, my kids have doubled that distance and the minimum time it takes me to get to them is about 11 hours and a chunk of money for airfare. This suddenly feels unacceptable to me. They are growing up, we are all growing older and I want to be nearer to them. The idea of moving to California did enter my head, but the issue of medical insurance in the USA, that land of opportunity for some, is an impossibility. I will have to content myself with periodic visits.
Missing them feels like a physical pulling inside, the longing is so real. What a strange thing missing people is. I have so many people I love all over the world. My brother, my father, my family and many of my friends are all in America. Some of my dearest friends are not in England. I have friends in Italy, Holland, Germany, India, Canada and Switzerland. This is not the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I should have stayed in the Bronx?
When I was a teenager my girlfriends and I would fantasize about how we would all buy houses in the same street in the same little village and then we could live in a semi-communal way and always be near each other. Our fantasies included our children growing up together and playing together. This vision was inspired by one of the Beatles' films in which they all had separate terraced houses, but once you walked though the individual front doors, all the houses were amalgamated into one huge open plan space. Contrary to my childhood fantasies, here I am, an adult, and even my own children are not nearby. Not fair.
My son's birthday is this week. He will have his own celebrations with his sister and his growing group of California friends. I have no worries on his account. I know that he is surviving well in his new home. His sister will be there to help him celebrate. They are both fine - it's me who's sad today. I feel a bit like Old Mother Hubbard in the nursery rhyme who went to the cupboard and found that the cupboard was bare. I have my wonderful, beautiful fantastic long-suffering husband, but my kids will have remain at the end of a phone and right in the middle of my heart today.
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