We were meant to go to Thailand last week. Instead, we took a four-day jaunt to Madrid, then returned home to the Costa Blanca. Our outbound flights just happened to coincide neatly with the height of the tension due to the Bangkok Airport blockade and given 24 hours to decide between rebooking and hoping for the best and a full refund, we took the sure option. I don’t know if it was the right decision, but it’s the decision that we made at the time, with the available data. And so we are home, and just getting our heads about 2 months of winter instead of two months of sunshine. It’s a funny time-warp that you enter when long-held plans are suddenly changed. It’s like “well, what do I do now?” But the sun rises and sets, the moon waxes and wanes and life continues apace.
My daughter is learning to speak and charmingly mixes English, Italian and Spanish in her own little tri-lingual melting pot. This evening when I was putting her to bed, she decided that she needed a little more cuddling before settling down for the long sleep. As she nestled her soft little crown of hair against my shoulder, she proclaimed “qua, happy”. (Qua means “here” in Italian). Here, I am happy, she said. I had to agree with her.
Yes, my love, we are here and we’re happy. Qua, happy. Here, felice.
