Full Circle

This morning, while I take the car to the mechanic, my eight-year-old daughter will be watching the changing of the guards. I had written before about my dad's plan to take Evie to London (nearly twenty-five years to the day from the day his mother took me on the same trip), and on Sunday evening I dropped the two of them off at the airport and they were on their way. I expected that when I watched Evie walking through the sliding glass doors, wearing a backpack full of books, a travel journal, and her stuffed "Bubby" and dragging her suitcase behind her, I would feel both sadness and a moment of anxiety at sending her off overseas. Instead, I found myself simply excited for her. Well, that and maybe a little envious.

I talked to Evie yesterday via Skype and she had slept for nearly the whole flight over, taken a ride on the London Eye, and was heading out for fish'n'chips. My dad emailed me today to let me know that she gone to bed at 8:30 London time last night and was still asleep eleven hours later. Today, their plan was to head to Churchill's bunker, the changing of the guards, and the British Museum.

As one of three kids, Evie rarely gets any one-on-one attention. One day this spring I left Lucy and Noni home with Toby while I walked to get Evie from school. On the half mile walk back from school, Evie turned to me and said, "It's nice to get some alone time together like this." Even fifteen minutes of it was special to her. Clearly we need to make more of an effort to have some time alone with each of the girls. This is why I love that Evie is having a whole week right now with just my dad. He began his email today saying that "Evie is a great traveling buddy!" I love that for this week, she can walk through a museum at her own pace (which, as Christine wrote here, can a much different pace than her little sisters') and have an adult's undivided attention.

I also love that Evie is making memories right now that will last her a lifetime. I still have distinct memories from my own trip twenty-five years ago and a photo album full of pictures of me and my grandmother, in our matching beige trench coats, touring England.

Before they left for their trip, my dad found some pounds he had saved in a pile of money in his drawer. He brought them with him on his trip, but when he presented them at the restaurant, the waiter laughed. "We can't take those. You're going to have to bring them to a bank. They're at least twenty-five years old." And that's when he realized that they had been saved from the trip my grandmother took me on all those years ago.