FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

I don't want to be an adult anymore.

A busy day ends. It's been quite a few months since this happened to me. Since July, in fact. Since then, my days have been in tune with the rhythm of Bali: the heat imposes a slower pace and the length of time between sunrise and sunset makes you not want to move around too much after eight and go to bed early.
But today I am filling my time like never before since we arrived.

Wake-up stretches and sit-ups, talking to my daughter over breakfast before she leaves for school at 7:30. All this followed by a shower, tidying up and washing up. I start my daily English lessons with listening to six minute English and exercises on easy English. I want to be able to speak and understand the language by Christmas. I have to achieve this goal at all costs, I want to be able to go to any country and get by. My biggest problem is understanding when someone is talking to me. I must look like a happy, hyper-focused, but not very smart fool when I listen to someone speaking in the language of Shakespeare. I continue with the making of the missing advent calendar bags. I'm quite proud of myself; from nothing much, I create a little festive atmosphere that seems to please my favourite teenager (great, that's the goal).

I cook for lunch and then, at about 2.30 p.m., I leave to meet my daughter in front of her school. It always warms my heart when she comes up to me and hugs me to say hello and gives me big kisses. We walk to Nook, a restaurant that opens onto rice fields, and she tells me all the gossip of the day among students and with the teachers. It's nice to have a little gossip on occasion. We go back to the French school because I have applied to help decorate the school for the end of year celebrations. I proposed to my last one to come and help and after some hesitation, I managed to convince her. Finally three of her classmates joined us. I am delighted to see that she is appreciated and that she seems comfortable and at ease. I am involved in the parents' association to have human contacts where I can exchange in French (it's nice from time to time). I thought I was wild and introverted, but I am discovering that I am sociable and at ease in relationships with others.

We continue with our Friday night ritual at the restaurant on the beach near our house: cocktails and chips while admiring the sunset to background music. The incessant dance of people selling jewellery, massages, ephemeral tattoos, cigarettes starts and I end up taking an ankle jewel from a woman we had talked to the week before. We get ripped off because of the price of the trinket but I make up my mind that it's not much for our budget (we comfort ourselves as we can). We are back home a little before 10pm. My daughter asks me what she should wear to go out with her friends. Who did she ask? Who did she ask for permission?

Well, just now while we were busy at school! Oh right, while I wasn't listening. I understand better. Since I didn't say no to her, she confirmed her presence. I feel like I'm being tricked again, but I don't have any particular problem with her. And for the moment she gives me no reason not to trust her. I'm sorry, are they going to a club? Which one? Chichi. Well, my boy says it's safe for her. Who's going to be there? Two girlfriends who seem "normal" to me and they're sleeping with a family whose mother I know a bit and who made a good impression on me. So I help her choose her clothes, I tell her that I trust her not to take any risks and to call me if she has any problems. Am I right to let her go? It's hard to know if I'm making the right decisions for her. I wish I could share the responsibility with someone. There are times like this when I don't want to be an adult who has to make choices and take responsibility for them.

I spend the night with the phone ringing, within reach, the clothes ready to be put on quickly. Oh yes, little rookie mistake, I forgot to ask her the girlfriend's last name and what time she plans to be home on Saturday. Up at half past six, I watch a series on Netflix, jumping on my laptop at every message. Eleven o'clock a "I won't be long" reassures me. A loud arrival about twenty minutes later and a stream of words telling me about the evening in detail make me forget my anxieties.

I am happy to see her in good shape and happy too, quite simply.