It felt like the end of the summer last week but it should have been its peak. And now, summer holidays are actually ending for most French, including us, and it’s suddenly hot again.
Nantes is almost empty this weekend and it feels weird—I’m guessing people are at the beach, one last relaxing trip before going back to work or to school.
I’m not sure how I feel about going back to Canada. Am I going “home”? Hard to say. Sure, this is where my mailing address is, but I still refer to the house as “Feng’s place”—and Nantes is “my parents’ place,” even though technically it’s also my hometown and now it’s only my mother’s place. On good days, I claim I belong everywhere. On bad days, I’m convinced I belong nowhere…
Being alone with Mark the past couple of weeks was fun. It brought us even closer. I always feel I’m a better mother in France because parenting “rules” are more instinctive to me here and I remember what I liked as a child.
I sent Mark buy his own candies alone, down the street. I gave him the freedom to ride his trottinette alone as well—I walk far behind him and he knows where he had to stop and wait for us. He made filtered coffee every day at my grandmother’s place and since she’s from a generation who considers kids can perfectly figure things out if shown once, he boiled water and handled the process alone—“he made it a bit strong, today,” she noted every now and then, as if Mark was a trained barista and not a six-year-old kid who’ve never tasted coffee…
I miss Feng, I need to focus on work and I’m looking forward to cook my spicy Chinese rice.
I have to go back to Canada.