The everyday wonder of riding bicycles at 5:45 am with my daughter

I am so loving having my daughter home for the summer. I know this because I rise several days a week, at least three, to ride my bicycle with her to her job in Oregon City, where she works for Clackamas County as a temporary summer employeed.

She rides her bicycle every day to work because she has no car. We did not get our children cars for their 16th birthday as some parents do (that is a whole other topic of a column).

But I think even if Rachel had a car she would still ride her bicycle to work. She likes the exercise, she likes to feel like she is in Germany, and she likes to feel as if she is saving the planet. All of which she is doing, one ride at a time.

It really is invigorating. And I made a commitment to ride with her Monday Wednesday and Friday. And two of those days, I take her out to Coffee Rush for a coconut mocha for me and a coconut latte for her.

I love our morning bicycle rides. The sunrise this summer has been splendid. The fresh air, the conversation. The everyday feel of life, the moment, the wonder, the sweetness of having this time with my daughter. I thank God every day, every moment, as I ride with her.

When we arrive at Coffee Rush, we are greeted by Angela and two other workers at the coffee shop depending on which day it is. The music is soft folk rock which I enjoy. We talk about small things, and family, and church, and faith, and school, and frustrations, and future, and careers, and passions, and callings, and health, and American culture compared with German culture, and relationships, and community.

Daily conversations, moments with people, with family, with friends, with loved ones, cannot be planned necessarily. You just have to be there for them. To be available. Forget this quality time. You need time. And time is what I love having for my family. Taking the time. To just be. To sit after dinner to talk instead of rushing off to do dinner or the internet. To have tea in the evenings together, to make tea first off, then to sit on the deck or the couch to sip and see who will join you. To just be.

Rachel's job is going to be over for the summer in a couple of weeks which is so hard to believe. I do not want summer to end. I want to hold on to it, to keep it close, to never let it go. I know I cannot, but what I can do is savor it, and write about it and take lots and lots of photographs and treasure this moment close to my heart.

Now it's Greece. . .

Rachel is close to being done with her 7 weeks -- count them - of traveling. . . I am keeping up via the internet. . .she is in Santorini Greece right now then by Friday back in Duesseldorf Germany with family- my sweet cousin Christiana's family - and in two weeks from today she will be home!!

GIVING HER WINGS - Real-Life Mom Oregonian column

REAL-LIFE MOM - SW Weekly Oregonian
By Cornelia Seigneur
Daughter's wings to take her far, bring her back
Thursday, May 08, 2008
The Oregonian

M y mother-in-law said recently, "Why are you letting Rachel go so far away to school next year?"

My daughter plans on attending Bodenseehof Bible School, a Capernwray college, in Germany -- the country of my birth -- this September.

I responded that I have to let her go. It is what she wants. I try to give my children wings, and I'm happy that my daughter has goals and dreams.

Yet now reality is hitting.

Rachel has applied to work full time this summer with Clackamas County. She says this will help her earn a chunk of money for college.

Problem is, Rachel working full time means we forgo our usual family road trip and the summer spontaneity I love.

I should be happy that Rachel is so responsible, caring about helping pay for college. Instead, I have mixed emotions. I'd rather she just continue her part-time, work-from-home, flexible-hours writing and transcribing jobs, which are just right for us to plan a family getaway, something we have done each summer since Rachel was born.

I'm realizing this could be our last summer together. There's so much inside me that doesn't want things to change.

Yet I know things must.

We have a creek in our backyard. We bought our house 18 years ago for the yard and have stayed here because we love it so much.

The creek is a draw for wildlife, and every year two ducks fly in to bathe there. We have a family story that the same ducks come back each year. When Rachel and her brother Ryan, a year behind her, were toddlers, they named those ducks Cora and Chester -- Chester was the name of an elderly gentleman one block over.

We purchase cracked corn at the farm store for the ducks. One year Cora laid eight eggs in the ivy behind the creek.

In midsummer, Cora and Chester fly away. But once the cherry trees bloom again, Cora and Chester return, confirming spring's arrival.

I've always wondered what makes them fly back every year. Is it the flowing water? Is it the calmness of our yard, nestled in woods and ivy? How do they find their way back?

As I think about Rachel leaving this fall, going so far away, I ponder: What will bring her back? What will remind those wings to point in the direction of her family?

Perhaps it is providing a place of acceptance and letting her know that this is always home. No matter how far she goes, and no matter how long she is gone. I have to let her fly with the wings I have given her.

I am glad she is using them.

And, hey, as I told my mother-in-law: In the meantime, I have an excuse to book a flight to my home country.

Cornelia Seigneur is a West Linn writer and mother of five. Her column appears the second Thursday of each month. Visit her blog at www.corneliaseigneur.com or e-mail her at inaword@comcast.net http://www.oregonlive.com/metrosouthwest/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/metro_southwest_news/1209866102227020.xml&coll=7