Tuesday was my mom's birthday. She would have been 67. I have felt her presence often in Europe. I have pictured her sitting out front of a cafe overlooking a canal in Amsterdam. I saw her in the knit bathing suit for sale in the window in Verona. When she was in her 20s, she started a business selling knit swimsuits in New York City until she could save up enough money to return to Europe as often as possible. Her spirit is in the adventurous spirits of the ex-pat community in Prague. And she is definitely in our lunches of salami and cheese on a baguette.
The stories and photos we shared in the days following her death seem to have inspired each of her children in different ways. My brother Jay bought a BMW Enduro motorcycle, much like the kind my dad was riding (or rather camping while waiting for repair parts) when he met my mother in Morocco more than forty years ago. My sister Mara bought a catering business and became her own boss, “channeling Vicki” as multiple family members have described it. And here I am, undoubtedly tracing some of her steps from forty-four years ago across Europe. Surely, with a similar spirit of adventure, letting the destinations reveal themselves as the journey unfurls.
Today we are bound for the much anticipated clear Adriatic waters and white cliffs of Croatia, Puli campground to be specific. I am sure my mom will be there on the beach in the sun from sunrise to sunset.
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