Suspended

My cell-phone rings in the living room below a sleeping loft in Northern Michigan. First thought as I hustle down some steep stairs: change the syrupy, grating 'Fur Elise' ring, a sentimental throw-back to childhood piano lessons. Childhood - mine and my boys' - is over. Thus, the second thought: it's either a client, or Dan, calling from LAX.

First, the mid-life scramble. Without glasses I cannot recognize the number nor see the 'talk' button, so I rush the silvery body upstairs in the cupped palms of my hands, like I'm holding a bleeping baby bird who's jumped too early from the nest.

My fingers finally find the button. 'Tis Dan, and he's calling from a departure lounge. I hear excited background babble and the loud, hollow sound of boarding announcements. My motherhood is instantly cued, like when babies cried, children called to be resuced from monsters, and teenagers slammed a car door after curfew.

Yes, LA was great, Dan is saying, and man, his shirt is dripping wet from hauling his heavy luggage from the wrong gate to the right one, and no, he left plenty of time, and the plane is the biggest he's ever seen, and I love you too and I'll call from Fiji or- maybe not until I get to New Zealand.

Roused and flush with love for our youngest son, who will spend the next year working and traveling abroad, I cannot fall back asleep. It's seeing his 100 ton plane rise through the clouds. Or not.

What ifs board my mind, stowing the heavy baggage that has come with 9/11 and terrorist attacks. The only thought that helps has an ironic shape: in London, Dan 's older brother is tethered to a Reuters newswire and already working at his desk. He will know instantly if Dan's plane explodes upon take-off, and call. And if we get that call...twenty-nine years of parenthood has taught me to block the next scenario.

'No worries, Mom,' was Dan's send-off line. And I don't, very much. Having two children living abroad leaves my parenthood suspended between opposite sides of the globe. This extreme version of leaving home has me swaying wildly. It feels off-kilter: how do I be a parent, this many time-zones away from them?

Today's answer: stop twisting in the wind. Get into the swing of this. It's what you wanted for them, to follow their dreams. Enjoy the freedom and fun that comes with it, and get to work on your own life. Like the Boeing 747, suspension bridges are incredibly strong, sturdy enough to hold up everyone.