Motherland hopping 3

... So the flight to Africa goes through London each way. My mother (upper right, with me at age 1; lower right, visiting baby girl holding her own in Brooklyn) is living and working in Plymouth, England. So I asked the organizers of the trip if it would be a problem to extend my stay in England on the way back, just fly out a couple of weeks later. They said it would not be a problem at all.

There was a time when I wouldn't have asked. That's learned behavior. I've always been too bold, they said. Too big. A little scary. So I began to shrink myself. Second-guess my instincts. Lose sight of my self in the mirror. Well, I'm back.

Because I dared to speak possibility, I'll be spending Thanksgiving in Plymouth. How funny! Particularly since no one in Plymouth celebrates Thanksgiving and a lot of residents have never heard of it, according to my mother. She found out that bit when she requested the time off.

My last hop will be to visit my mother in her new land, England, the prototype of America. It's been a revealing few months for mom.

She moved there this summer in June. It's been quite an adjustment for her, a brave move at 60. She'd always wanted the experience of living and working abroad -- but things always got in the way. Then one day, she got out of her own way. Was recruited to a post there. In a blink or two she was gone. It'll be good to see her.

Today, our relationship is in transition to something a bit less co-dependent. We've been trading mother-daughter roles for several years now. I'm shooting for mother-adult daughter. I'm beginning to allow my own inner voice to be the loudest and most trusted advisor. I am my most ardent supporter. It was time to fold up my Super Woman cape and put it away. I couldn't spend my life righting all the perceived wrongs, chasing away all the ghosts, being the proper companion. I created that unrelenting role at around 5 years old when my parents divorced bitterly.

Decades later, I'm tired. Beat. Done. I'm finally letting go of the huge distraction their divorce has been on so many levels. Re-setting the ground rules. It hasn't always pretty this past year or so. But it's been healthy. It's all love. I can feel the warmth through long-distance line. I remember her scent. The exact chestnut brown in upwardly slanted eyes. The Caribbean lilt that weaves its way into her speech after she's visited family and friends in South Florida. The utter stillness of her prayer room. Lots of people have been asking about her. I'll finally be able to give a full, eye witness report.

-- Nadirah