Have Mother, Will Travel: A Mother and Daughter Discover Themselves, Each Other, and the World (P.S.)

Have Mother, Will Travel: A Mother and Daughter Discover Themselves, Each Other, and the World (P.S.)

Claire Fontaine

Language: English

Pages: 336

ISBN: 0061688428

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Glamour magazine called Come Back, the first nonfiction collaboration by Claire and Mia Fontaine, the “best mother-daughter memoir,” while the New York Times Book Review praised it as, “a testament to the power of the love.”

The Fontaines are back with Have Mother, Will Travel, a beautiful, thoughtful, insightful, inspiring book that brilliantly captures the changing relationship between a mother and her adult daughter. Seen within the context of an unforgettable round-the-world adventure, the emotional milestones reached and the new understandings and appreciations achieved will warm the heart and nourish the soul—an extraordinary journey that should not be missed by armchair travelers and by mothers and daughters everywhere.

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looking from the kite to my mom but turns and buries his face in his mother whenever my mom gestures for him to come fly the kite. Everyone’s laughing, and after enough ushering gestures and encouraging words he toddles over, and is soon shrieking with joy every time a gust of wind lifts the kite higher into the sky. While everyone’s absorbed playing with him, I kneel down and snap a quick picture of his kaidangku, which turn out to be brightly colored pants split open at the crotch so when

that could have been dreamt up by Lewis Carroll after a heavy dose of laudanum. Originally a house, it is a candlelit maze of dark rooms, narrow, tilted staircases, and low ceilings. The stairs are uneven and creaky, laughter floats from various darkened rooms. We’re led up a final flight of stairs to the attic, a small room with a low, vaulted ceiling, burgundy carpet, and gold and brown floor cushions. “This place is so cool!” I whisper to my mom, who looks less than thrilled. “It feels

“Non, I don’t fink vey* are smoked, les champignons (mushrooms),” Anthony says. “Maybe they brown the butter,” I suggest. I hear the word douche and Mia trying to explain to Isabelle why it’s hard to get used to saying their word for “shower.” Mia to Isabelle: In English, it’s a much more private kind of washing. Isabelle to Mia: You mean ze shower? Anthony to me, about the teacup: Why do zey use zis fing, I cannot make my fingers like

their little girls, just as many treasure the kitchen as a refuge, as one of the few places they can have two minutes to themselves, where they can be alone with their thoughts and feelings. Since we’ve come here to spend time together, I offered to teach Mia how to cook some of her favorite foods (those that don’t need an oven). Today we shopped for ingredients for a pasta with fresh tomatoes, herbs, garlic, mushrooms, spicy sausage, and Parmesan. We’ve washed everything, laid it out, and

who might be interested in her weekly “Café letters.” Once she started a blog, she drew fans worldwide, along with a publishing deal for a memoir. She picks us up at the train station in Orange, looking breezy and radiant with her long, white gauzy skirt, intensely blue eyes, and tousled blond locks. I insist Mia sit up front, as it’s her first time meeting Kristin. She and Kristin are full of questions for each other, about college, life in France, writing, dating. I love watching Mia get to

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