Life has been on pause for the last two weeks, as I’ve slowly recovered from the surgery. I’ve had to depend on others to do things for me, accept that time must move slowly these days, and stay awake at nights for my tiny one.
It’s taken a new turn, this twist in adventures—and yet somehow, it doesn’t seem strange; just the natural flow of things.
It was my son who first broke the news to me. “I have a baby sister!” he declared, one sunny day in Lake Como, nine months ago.
“No you don’t,” I half-frowned at him.
But he did, already. I just didn’t know it.
Trusting his instincts, I asked him, shortly before the birth, “What color is your baby sister’s hair? Is it blonde, like yours?”
“No,” he stated matter-of-factly, without looking up from his puzzle. “It’s black. Schwarz. Like yours.”
And so it is.
Now, she’s here, the little lady bug, who sleeps so much I am secretly hoping she stays this quiet and lets me do my work. Her features already take on quite a mature look, though she is just weeks old.
And when she smiles in her sleep, it is the most beautiful thing on earth.
I told you, this is my journey.
Yes, I miss the days of past, of ziplining across gorges while travelling provincial terrains; of backpacking with just my partner, before there were babies; the days of going on a whim, and risking a lot without a second thought.
I know someday, I’ll return to Africa, to the tribal regions of the Philippines, to the vineyards of Tuscany, to intoxicating India. But by then, I’ll have my new travelers with me, little feet marking their own path.
And by then, the journeys—as a family—will be even better.
Now, something for smiles: Tina Fey’s A Mother’s Prayer for Her Daughter