The Exchange, Day 17 “So, Camille, is there anything you won’t ride?” Drops, falls, spins and speeding roller coasters–you like the amusement park? “Bah oui!” he exclaims, happy with our activity choice for the day. “I do eet all.” But when we get to Kings Dominion, fresh-washed in the morning sun and just starting to sizzle for the day, I’m not sure Will and I share his definition of “all.” Here’s my William, busting through… Continue reading

The Exchange, last day I don’t know what to buy for him or with him to take home to France. Since he touched down, he has wanted to purchase a pair of Nike shoes with his $300 USD. Apparently there is a pair of sneakers called “Air Force One” costing roughly the same as a drink stirrer on the famed aircraft. What is the appeal? I couldn’t begin to tell you. They look like sneakers… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 1-21 (an ongoing observation) Age and immaturity aside, we have another obstacle to communication. Perhaps you will have guessed it by now. It is so ironic I hesitate to say. It is Le Cell. Technically, Camille does not have a cell phone. His father assured me of this from the other side of the ocean, and I was elated. Imagine the old-school in that! We will be, like, talking and looking at… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 15 As our time together winds to a close, I realize there are several phrases and pointers I’ve wanted to say to Camille, but lack the words to say them. Here, below, is a brief list of the English sentiments I wish I could have conveyed to him. Translation, please. Why is there cherry tomato on the walls? What is that all over the walls? Please make your bed. That other thing… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 6 The larger difference, no surprise, is not the language barrier between a boy who does not speak English and a boy who does not speak French, but the world between the ages. Here, there are oceans to cross, indeed. He is a sun-browned child on the cusp of adolescence, with skateboards and pricey sneakers on his mind. I am a middle-aged mom on the cusp of my fourth cup of coffee,… Continue reading

Day 3: The Joy of (not) Cooking Strange. I’ve been to the grocery store once with Will and once with Camille, and still we have nothing to eat in the house. With William, it was a preparation expedition, before Camille’s arrival. What shall we put in our cart that best represents American food? Better question, what do you get when turn a 13-year-old loose in a grocery store? Pop-tarts, box macaroni and cheese, make yer… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 4 You know you’re a Burk when you’ve been in the country not three full days and you are awakened from a deep sleep by a woman holding a map in one hand and a note in the other. She is leaving. She is going with William down the street. He is cutting the grass for a neighbor and she is going with. There is no one at home. You need to… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 2 As one would expect, it’s a little awkward when the boys meet. Two teenage boys, in a situation not of their making—one round-faced and ready for anything though it’s clear he doesn’t know what, and the other a tall, lanky, likeable boy who lives here, come home to find a stranger in his sister’s bedroom. A short, smiling stranger. Camille comes down the stairs when Bill and Will return from their… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 1 For some reason at the Burk house, getting an exchange student from another country  always involves paint. Two years ago, when Anoukis came, I totally remember Sophie demanding that I finish painting the downstairs bathroom. Like, right now? An hour before the airport?? There was a small patch over the door, top right, that was left unpainted after I petered out on a re-do many years earlier. Ran out of steam,… Continue reading

William’s answer to the age-old question: “So…How was your day at School?” We’re seated at the kitchen table after a long day for both of us. He’s just gotten home from the gym and I’m trying to tidy the kitchen so I can cook in it after a long day of library work. When he sits, I sit, dutifully communicating that I do want to hear about his day. He has both hands and both… Continue reading