I knew she would had come, as I know that seasons follow each other incessantly.
And on March 20, the day of the spring solstice of 2018, she was born.
Her name is Elena.
I carried her for nine months with simplicity, aware that she had always been inside ime. Like a small acorn hidden in the ground that for a long time awaits the ideal conditions to get moving and turn into an oak.
It is said that children choose the family in which they will born, that they come into the world to perform a mission together with their parents. I like to think that Elena was born to seal the end of a long and difficult period of change and the beginning of a new life, the one for which I have so painstakingly fought.
It’s now a month since my little star exploded, turning my micro-cosmos upside down. The emotions dramatically amplified by events and hormones, the prioritie duplicated and overturned, the time transformed into bubbles made of loving gestures repeated endlessly, day and night no longer having a meaning.
It is not the first time, I know that this period will end, even too quickly.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep in my mind the memories of noises and smells and I take pictures because I do not trust in my memory any more. My eyelids fall under the weight of waking hours but the desire not to take my eyes off who already existed and I immensely love leads me never to stop, even when I could, or should.
No recipe in this post, also because I do not cook for a month (unless cooking also means preparing baby bottles of milk, ’cause in that case I cook at least 7 times a day). I just want to leave a trace in this virtual home of mine of an event so important in my life, some photographs hanging on the walls of my “small kitchen” to remember Elena’s arrival, which will change everything.
Soon I will start again to share recipes and stories of my beloved Liguria because this blog is also a creature of mine that I want to continue to take care of.
Just a little patience. Now I have to enjoy this breath of spring.