This morning we went swimming with the girls. It was positively brilliant to watch them dancing in the water... both full of smiles and eager to take a leap of faith. Trusting completely that mama or papa will always be there to catch them if they need a little extra help... and simply enjoying the feeling of being in a body of water versus walking in air.
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| Anaïs happy in her boat |
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| Isabel jumping into the water |
In the afternoon, we went to celebrate the birthday of a good friend of both Isabel & Anaïs. All four of us had a delightful time sharing special moment with wonderful people, not to mention enjoying some delicious food. The girls were especially happy to be all dressed up as little princesses.
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| Princess Anaïs |
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| Princess Isabel |
As we finished off a beautiful day, ate dinner, put the girls to bed and went on with our evening ritual... we got some extremely sad news from home. Good friends of ours lost their twin babies - they were due less than a month after our due date with Little Plum (so she was five months pregnant). We suddenly felt so very, very far away from home... the geographical distance seemed to instantly translate into a distance from the day we had just experienced. And as I sit here and try to write out these words I am overwhelmed with a sense of loss - a deep sadness not only for our dear friends, but also for a complete sense of helplessness at living so far away... unable to do more than send thoughts of strength, courage and hope. Unable to offer any kind of physical or emotional support due to the space that separates our lives. It is in these moments that living abroad takes on a whole new meaning... as we live a life here and attempt to make it as complete as possible, we also are so very far apart from the life that we used to know at home. I suppose that there is no way to change that... no matter where we are living, there are always people who are not living in the same place. And perhaps once we leave Colombia we will feel this same loss (in fact, I am certain that we will... for friends like the one with whom we celebrated a princess birthday). The loss of their physical presence. The inability to be there during the tougher moments. Yet this news today has struck so deep that I find myself speechless and almost paralyzed in the face of it. All I want to do is get on a plane and fly home... to give my friends a hug. Not just support from afar... a real expression of human contact.
And so tonight, i light a candle for our friends... hoping that in some small way the energy of the flame helps to light their way as they move through their pain. And at the same time I find myself reflecting on all the losses and sadnesses that I have been so far away from over the years... hoping beyond hope that my intentions find their way to the hearts of the people I hold so dear... both near and far. Perhaps the candle is just as much for me as for them... a physical act of hope, of love, of faith.
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