I haven’t done much traveling.  But next month I’ll be in Paris, France for twelve days.  It’s really hard to believe.

I think of this trip as some sort of gift or consolation prize.  “You lose, so here, go to Paris with your artist daughter who needs some fun.”  I was more than a little surprised.  It’s an anti-depressant for us both.

Two naïve, somewhat fragile-minded females on their own in Paris for twelve days.  It could be a reality show for all I know.  I’m bringing my video camera.

I remember the first time I asked a neighbor to watch my three youngest kids so I could go on a date with myself.  I was frustrated with my life and had been reading Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way.”  Ms. Cameron had one daughter, lots of money, and was writing to all wishful creatives encouraging them to start living the creative life.  I had nine children with no financial backing for artistic endeavors, but thought I might have a go with her ideas.

Part of her solution for the creative doldrums was having regular time on your own as a requirement for creative healing and inspiration.  So, with my tender heart in my hand, I drove to a nearby city and then walked along the sidewalks of the newly revitalized downtown.  Just because…  It was a really bizarre experience.  I was so accustomed to having at least three if not all nine of my kids with me unless it was some church meeting.  Babysitters were provided on such occasions.  I took this first leap with fear and hope entwined.

I thought people could tell I had never walked alone before.  I saw my solo reflection in storefront windows and it startled me.  It was the first time I realized how sheltered I had been.  Sheltered?  That’s probably not the right word.

I had a really hard time walking alone down the public sidewalk without the weird feeling that I wasn’t doing it right.  That somehow I stood out like a freak.  I ducked in a random shop a few times to escape the magnitude of space weighing me down outside in the open.  I had to convince myself again and again that I could do it without everyone noticing.  Here was this woman learning to walk downtown all by herself for no other reason than to be loosed of responsibility for one hour.  Later, when I arrived home with my kids in tow, I felt like a different person with a really big secret.  I was never the same.  That first taste of freedom changed everything for me…

So, now I’m traveling to Paris with no escort, no guide, no help other than a day-to-day itinerary my parents worked out.  My daughter expects me to know what to do.  She will look to me for all the answers.  I’m actually really nervous.  Near terrified is more accurate.  Fortunately, when we applied for our passports last week, I took a nice picture.  It almost made me feel legitimate.  Maybe this makes me a real traveler.

I should have an amazing time, if not illuminating.  I will see things I’ve only read about.   I’m even attending an opera!  And a Neil Diamond concert!  I’ll have to take trains and buses and taxis and walk city streets at night with my beautiful daughter.  You know about mama bears, don’t you?  I can do this, right? This may be my chance to see if I will sink or swim as a single, middle-aged woman in the world…