Letting Go

I’ll be on my way home from Scotland by the time you read this. I had no intention of going but tagged along with my daughter as she came to explore the University of Edinburgh. It is a funny feeling to have so much history beneath your feet-thousands of years really-kings and queens castles and cobblestone - towers, turrets, steeples, art and architecture. It is as if you are on a movie set and can feel the rumblings of horse and chariots clamoring down the cobblestone streets, and hear coronets welcoming the queen.

At the same time, I can feel the pavement slipping out from under me as my one and only considers a move across the ocean to this land of poets and mystics – kegs and castles. How does the heart absorb this distance – how does one apply the proper amount of adhesive as well as a lengthy tether? How do you let go and hold on at the same time?

I grew up thinking that Sag Harbor was the epicenter of the universe- the place to be, the prettiest destination on earth. At the end of Long Wharf, I have given thanks to the heavens for my parents and grandparents and the fortunate events that landed me here. Gravity has held me in place-but not my daughter- she has a lengthy tether that’s taken and pulled in whatever direction the wind of adventure might blow. It’s a funny combination of exploration, fearlessness and a constant need to severe that gravitational pull before it consumes her and she ends up too deeply rooted like her mother and father.

I am always reminded of the Kahlil Gibran’s poem entitled “On Children” (excerpts)

     “Your children are not your children.
     They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
     They come through you but not from you,
     And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your     

     Dreams.
     You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.”

It’s all a process this letting go and rediscovering the person at the root of your own being-the one you may have lost along the way. Those castles may stand for thousands of years but we are merely clouds passing by. How much rain will each day hold and how much sunshine? How will those sensible shoes feel as they walk through this next chapter of life? We will have to write that page by page.

There are those that live for adventure and travel-but me, I love coming home.

Siena's Song
Nancy Remkus
Nancy Remkus