In two more sleeps Hope will get on a plane. She may or may not rest well on the aircraft itself depending on factors like adrenaline, the noisiness of co passengers, and piercing time zones. But hurricanes and lightning strikes notwithstanding, she will wake up in France. 

 

Two sleeps later her sister Aurelle will embark on her own parallel adventure, flying to Spain. Why is it that the abrupt finish to parenting my girls comes as such a shock? I recall being shocked at the beginning, when the sonogram technician pointed out the position of each of the twins on the screen. Protocol suggests that she wasn't supposed to spill the beans, but probably she assumed I was already privy to the secret. They were after all inside me. 

 

It is not as if the notion to travel erupted last week, or even last year. The plan to attend college in Europe first got traction when they were freshman, and accelerated during exchange programs in sophomore year. The momentum wasn't snuffed out by a pandemic, or the threat of withdrawal of the US from NATO, though our street cred has sagged in international circles. Somehow doors to embassies and universities have swung open just enough for two aspiring linguists to slip through. 

 

The decisions about what to bring and what to leave behind have been weighty. Since there are inflexible regulations around how much heft is allowed inside the zipper, each item must pass the test for essentiality. How many shoes are necessary for the eventualities of life on another continent? How warm is May in Madrid? How cold are the winters in the Alps? 

 

I have not been a voting member of the what-goes-and-what-stays club. I have been the beneficiary of their stock of yarn, and the eager caretaker of stained glass projects. 

 

But there is one buoyant article of inexpressible value that I will tuck into the corners of their suitcases. 

 

My love. Then again, they can carry it inside them.