The big swim

Finding freedom within, for me, is akin to a fish getting its first big swim after being confined to a small tank for example. Experiencing that freshness, that natural current and joining the flow, almost as if it was always the case. ‘The shock could kill it’, some may say….

So what might be preventing inner freedom then? Who sets these restrictions and perimeters? The therapist I used to see, would say for sure that it is me. That I must set myself harmful barriers because who else is there, in my head?

It reminds me of Harvey the dog - getting off his lead the very first time, he knew no limits, he was not trained in social manners for dogs or restraint at all. How we had laughed that day until it happened, boom, he got hit by a vehicle but he recovered and was never let off his lead again.

Zander explained it - “this leash, you see, is the key to freedom but removed - also a death trap”

Pondering on why all this is coming back to me, I almost feel like calling Zander to ask him more.

Instead though, I look through my baggage, slowly at first then blatant rummaging. Surely I did not need all this, this….stuff.

In the hallway there are footsteps, slippers, approaching the door of my room. The sole is half off and I have asked my mother numerous times to get a new pair. She argues she is attached to them and will repair them with glue. I hold my breath, waiting for her to knock but she goes down the stairs to the kitchen. The kettle is loud and I contemplate going down for a cuppa.

Reaching for sparkling water instead, I make plans to halve my luggage. I put on the audio French teacher and practice pronunciation while I throw out jeans with a dodgy zip, an old favorite stained t-shirt and worn out sandals.

Tiff sends a text message ‘How is the packing going? How excited are you on a scale of one to ten? I’m missing you already!’

Replying instantly I tell her ‘six for excitement and feeling strange’

‘Strange how? Can I come over?’

‘Strange, disbelief. Yes please come over’.

I mouth ‘Bonjour, enchanté’ while looking in the mirror, I make expressions and faces trying on that French pout they do so well.

Half an hour later and Tiff is here with a small bakery bag.

“I know we have said our goodbyes Lara but I’m a bit worried about you. Here, I went to the new fancy bakers and got us ‘des pain au chocolates’.”

Tiff smiles shyly as I observe the pastry before devouring it in just a few bites.

“Tell me Tiff, d’you think I’m making a mistake?” with hands on my hips I search her porcelain like face for any sign which I could have missed.

“Travel girl, just do it, look you are half French anyway, you will fit in, you will even flourish” Tiff winks with an amused face then tries to hide a stray tear.

I feel like crying too but I’m not upset, just a bit unsettled.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be speaking like a native I’m sure” Tiff looks full of awe.

“Come here friend” We hug with a sense of urgency then Tiff is gone. Back home. Back home here in the British countryside. I am moving to pollution and smog. Crowds and busy pavements.

I go downstairs and make two cuppas. Mum is placing the washing on the rope and seems very preoccupied.

“A penny for them…..” I say when she re-enters

“No, don’t worry, I was just being nostalgic, thinking of when I met your Dad in Paris, I’m so happy for you, I think you are brave but promise me you will be careful” She fiddles about with the peg bag as if it is an essential task.

“I will be mum, plus I’m freeing myself, I’m gaining inner freedom” I glance out the kitchen window as if in a daze.

“Who took your freedom honey?” Mum squints her eyes.

“Me, apparently, it’s about safety, fight or flight and taking small risks” Gesturing my hands as if ticking off a checklist.

“I know your paternal grandparents are frail but they would love it if you made the trip to Chartres to visit them plus, wow, what a cathedral there….”

“Do you think Dad would approve?”

Mum nods her head slowly, painfully slow and I nearly choke but don’t.

The following day aboard the direct flight, the pilot is called Philip just like my Dad. I put my pods in and listen to some tunes as I go to his native country for the first time alone and I know the year will be magic. Let this fish fly…..