The Biggest Win
I had been in Uluwatu for four days with the boys and was scheduled to head to the mountains the next day for a spiritual retreat. At the same time, the boys were checking into a nearby surf camp for the duration of their stay. I had it all set up. I had done a few days of Mike work and was ready for a break. Ready to dive into whatever this retreat was meant to bring me.
The boys wanted to head to the camp on their own, a brief proud and heart-tugging moment for this mama. They didn’t need me to check them in.
So after our goodbye, I ducked into the spa for an amazing Balinese massage. A few minutes in, my phone buzzed. It’s my son’s ring, so I wanted to check it.
“Mom, this place is nothing like the website said. We can’t stay here!”
Me inwardly: Shit. I. Am. Going. To. My. Retreat.
It was about 4 p.m.
I didn’t jump off the massage table like the me from a couple years ago would have. I calmly said, “Okay, we’ll figure this out. I’ll call you after my massage.”
First win.
The boys left the surf camp and went to grab food at a café while I finished my massage. And let’s be honest, the boys had definitely been spoiled with me at our lovely ocean-view bungalow the last few days. I get it. The surf camp was a huge downgrade for them. 😂
So we set out to problem-solve and pivot.
The boys decided they wanted to head to Mike’s favorite spot, G-Land. Now, this was where I had always wanted them to be. I knew it. It was where Mike’s heart was and where he spent most of his time. It’s the holy land, the Mecca, for surfers.
And they had a personal invitation from the owner of the camp, Bobby, the Indonesian elder who was one of five Indonesian men to bring surfing to Bali in the ’70s. He told us stories over lunch about the struggle back then to work with the government to get pathways to the beach built so he could teach locals to surf the Indo waves.
He said to me, to the boys, and even to Mike’s brother over the phone, “With your permission, I would like to take the boys to G-Land. To the camp. To experience it there for themselves and to experience where Mike loved.”
Bobby also talked about the surf ego that is prevalent in some areas of Bali, but not in the jungle at G-Land.
My mama heart was so happy about the invitation. But the boys were unsure, still deciding. Enamored with the Uluwatu vibe, scootering around the chaotic roads with surfboards attached and checking the waves, they weren’t quite ready to commit to a jungle experience.
Until the day we were parting ways.
So they came up with a plan. They navigated a massive pivot. They would leave the next day by boat for G-Land, a three-hour ride to the jungle of East Java.
And I would still get to leave for my retreat two hours north near Mt. Agung as planned.
This all happened less than 12 hours before I was scheduled to leave them, and it was solved within a couple of hours. We sat together at dinner that night troubleshooting this new plan, overlooking the ocean waves where Uncle Mike surfed for so many years.
We all felt good about it.
I felt even more confident about leaving the boys on their own. The staff at the camp all knew Mike.
The WhatsApp messages started rolling in.
“We’ll have our driver pick up the boys in the morning and get them to the boat.”
“We will look after the boys like our own family.”
“Mike was the best human I ever knew.”
I could relax again.
The boys were back at the hotel with me, where everyone had also gotten to know them, and they went off to their room. We said our goodbyes then, as I was leaving north first thing in the morning and eventually they would be heading east.
“What if you don’t go to your retreat, Mom? Do you get your money back?” my son asked.
I could tell he was just a teeny bit nervous about me going farther away somewhere he didn’t know, by myself. Or maybe he liked the idea of me being the one staying close while they went off.
We talked a little more and all decided we felt good.
The second win.
We hugged goodbye and said, “I love you.”
My ride was scheduled for a 7:30am pickup.
I woke up excited and ready to go.
And with just a teeny mama-bear moment of sadness.
At 7:00 a.m. I got a ping from my son.
“Mom, are you at breakfast still?”
A mama’s dream.
He came to me without me asking or requesting. I didn’t ask him to join me. He initiated.
A big deal for a teenage boy individuating from his mom.
Or rather…
A big deal for the mom of a teenage boy individuating from his mom.
We sat together at breakfast. He ordered his usual fruit bowl. We chatted a little, but we sat quietly, too. I relished every minute of that ordinary breakfast.
Because nothing extraordinary happened.
He simply chose me.
He chose me, if only for a little connection, without me asking or imposing it on him.
A true mama’s dream.
The third win.
The biggest win.
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