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Published: September 16th 2009
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“Be courageous,” Gabriel says to me, at three already deeply in love with words. He gives me a sidelong glance before plunging a forefinger into a bucket of fish roe, scarlet up to the knuckle. That is how our last morning began: a happy grandmother, standing on a wharf, modeling courage but not feeling brave.
It has occurred to me that I am cutting myself ruthlessly adrift, after 35 years of non-stop mothering. I must have liked it, I tell myself, and the truth is I have, though not every single bit. So now that the last step-chick has flown the coop (more of a disgruntled owlet, Michael, judging by the hours he keeps) I am finally free to cram my life into a suitcase and launch myself into the unknown. I know only that I will look back on the morning when mothering ended and grand-mothering had to be put on hold, trying to accept this moment in all its bitter sweetness, as Gabriel wheels around the dock with outstretched arms, scattering seagulls.
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Michele
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adorable
Liz, if that is Gabriel, then I am in love! What a darling! Cherie would have loved him. I understand modeling courage but not feeling brave...that IS motherhood! love, Michele