left.on.a.jet.plane

Certain events, often deemed as milestones on hindsight, have the power to alter one's course of life drastically, be it for the better or for the worse.

I suppose this can be considered one of them, although at the moment I'm really not too sure about the extent of impact it'll have on my life. What I do know for certain, is that someone's life is totally changed, and that person is my mom.

She left for New Zealand last evening, to join some friends (and some strangers) who were looking to expand their business, in a partnership that would take her away from her family for months and perhaps even years. Computer-illiterate once, she had to pick up new skills fast, and venture into new territories (by her own standards) boldly. Granted, she's still not exactly considered computer-savvy, but the amount of determination and dedication expended on her task at hand was undeniably admirable for a fifty-three coming to fifty-four year-old housewife. In her new job, she's got to adapt to an entirely new culture, a different way of thinking, and integrate with a new way of life. She's got to learn how to manage people of various nationalities, and look at things from a macro-level while keeping an eye on the nitty-gritties. She's got to be prepared to defend herself against vicious back-stabbing and company politics when the time calls for it, and not let herself get stepped roughshod over like she normally does. Being overly nice really doesn't pay equal dividends sometimes. I feel as if she's almost like a young, helpless, domesticated pup unleashed into the wild and set free to act as hunting prey for scary animals.

Where does love begin and where does love end? Knowing how much my mom wanted this, we could only learn to let her go. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to find herself in the world, to carve a niche for herself, to garner achievements under her belt, now that her three chicks have grown up, ready to leave the coop and fly away. Really, it's the least we could do for her, setting her free to pursue her dreams, and dragging her down no longer. Not that she considers us chores or undesirables, I'm certain she does not. But the irrevocable fact remains that by putting us, her family, first at every point in her life, she has consciously let her own aspirations take a backseat, a supporting role. Not that this business venture was decided upon out of pure selfishness, in fact, wanting to provide more adequately for the family played a huge part in her decision. Somehow, I sense though, that this time round, she wanted it for herself as much as for the family. And that's a good thing.

They say you never know what you have until you lose it. It's only been barely a day, but already the air in the house seems so musty, the floor so dusty, and the walls silent without echo. Everyone chips in to help out with the housework but I wonder how long can this fervour last? Soon, I suspect, the house will begin to look like a hurricane just hit it, the heap of washing/folding/ironing will start to pile up even further, the ants and infinite number of pesky creatures will have a ball of a time on the unvacuumed floor. What else can we do but try to cope as best as we can? Everyone, be it daughter, son, father or mother, has a right to lead their own lives as they deem fit.

After all, it's never too late to start living.