Minka is at sea. It was all her idea, her passion. How did we raise this kind of child? She has always gone on her own way, always rejected the rock ’n’ roll options her parents have chosen as a way of life. She is Michael J Fox in Family Ties, she is the bright morning star to our darkness of smoke-filled rooms at 3am. “Our youth development programme offers many highly engaged days in an environment uninterrupted by technology and the distractions of home and school life.” God, I miss her.
Minka is at sea. The last time she went away without our being able to reach her was at school camp, in year six; she was 10 years old and we didn’t see her or hear from her again until she was 10 years old and three days older. They spent three nights somewhere or other on the Whangaparāoa peninsula. Parents were instructed that no contact was to be made with their precious cargo. It felt so weird, so strange, like a test, like a social experiment … “Maximum speed: 13 knots (power), 15 knots (sail).” I lie in my bed at night, stare into the dark, and worry.
Minka is at sea. Apparently they get up at 6am and jump off the ship for a swim. I gather they have to climb the mast. The boat stops in at places, for tramps or other kinds of physical challenges. “We have an impeccable safety record having operated for over 50 years at sea in what is an ever-changing ocean environment.” This makes me worry even more. Parenting is the leading cause of anxiety.
Minka is at sea. She returns next Saturday. I am taking the bus to meet her in Whangārei, and travel back home with her. “The focus of learning is on teamwork, developing skills of communication, self-leadership, self-reliance, self-discipline, self-esteem, resilience, confidence and leadership.” How awful, but I bet she’s loving every second of it. I bet she’s having fun. I can’t wait to see her again, and will only have to worry about the rest of her life.