Dear mom, you are the coolest woman I know

“Kiek, we are thinking about Spain.” A few years ago, I heard my mother say that sentence for the first time. And yet I didn’t hear that a great life wish was being expressed here. I mean, we all fantasize sometimes, right? Yes, I also sometimes say things. But there is a difference between dreaming and doing. That difference is called courage, and not everyone has it.

My mother does.

Today she is emigrating to Spain. The moving truck is ready, the cat is coming along. The fact that my mother falls into the category of not-dreaming-but-doing doesn’t actually surprise me at all. Seeking adventure, being able to blend well into other cultures, the urge for freedom; the strong women in my family all have this in common.

The fact that she is not leaving on her own makes me feel at ease. She is going with the man she spontaneously fell in love with nine years ago. The man who is kind to her, who still holds every door open like a British gentleman, who almost every evening lovingly massages her feet. The man who also had the dream of retiring early. And so one plus one equals two.

And yet it still feels a bit surreal. My dear Truudster, who now lives less than ten minutes away from me, will henceforth be a plane ride away. Your first reaction to such a big decision from someone else is always to swallow hard. You think of yourself. Your comfortable life is being shaken up. What if something important happens? What if I have problems and want to cry on my mother’s shoulder? What if I ever become a mom? What if I just want to ‘just’ bike by for a cup of coffee, which I hardly ever do but suddenly really want to?

After a few weeks of imagining disaster scenarios and feeling sorry for myself, I began to see the benefits. Hey, there has never been a plane that stood in the way of my friendships. My best friend lives in Ivory Coast, my best friend in Helsinki, and my sister took a world trip of a year and a half: those deepest bonds never break, even with distance. Fear is such a bad advisor; I prefer to choose love.

Yes, soon my mother will live in Spain and I can discover quality time with her in a new way. We’ll drink limoncello by her pool under the olive trees, and I can say: I understand you, mom. You have dedicated your whole life to your two daughters; now it’s time for you.

Oh, and note to self, Kiek: saying goodbye at Schiphol equals too many emotions and automatically results in crying. That intensely ugly cry, you know? You don’t want that. Don’t make it too heavy; see it for her as a super cool challenge and start stocking up on summer dresses in anticipation for when you go that way.

Dear mom, you are the coolest woman I know.
I wish you the world. Literally.
If that’s Spain, then follow your heart.
Then I’ll follow you again. 

And you better chill that limoncello, girlfriend.
And warm that pool. 

BOMMETJEEEEEE.