Spring isn't passing by me this time. Each year I grow more aware of this season which before was nothing except the middle man to summer. But a magnolia tree across the street allows me --very briefly-- to swoon and sigh over pink blossoms... although there hasn't been any rain around this parts, life is blooming.

I held my sister's newborn baby girl just a few days ago. She was warm with new blood, a fresh full bed of black hair and the quiet peace of the undiscovered. She is a doll my hands were deadly afraid to touch.

My other niece and nephews were born in Venezuela, and seeing them only through photographs, however majestic, just reminded me I was not a part of the big moment: conquering my fear to hold them in arms too big and clumsy and say hello for the first time ever.

Driving to the hospital, I thought about my first words to baby Sophie. What should I say to her? "Hello. Welcome. I love you." Everything sounded so common there were no words worth saying. As I walked into the room and saw her tightly wrapped in a swaddling blanket like a Matryoshka doll, beaming light from her cheeks, I forgot my plan to say anything at all.

Rupande, the Indian warrior princess, was suddenly a mom and there she was, totally beautiful after the most treacherous work a woman could possibly do. More visitors arrived eager to greet this wee being and we gushed together. Yet nothing trumped the silence of everyone completely at ease looking at Sophie Rotu sleeping. Just like a brand new blossom on the tree across the street, there was nothing to do with her grace but stare.

"Whirl, whirl, whirl! Holy! Days are flying and I've not written! I've not recorded the worthy happenings!"

This is exactly what I wrote in my journal tonight when I found myself alone in my apartment with my thoughts and something rare these days at 11 p.m... energy. My last journal entry is from January 24... horrible... although many other journals are being written on at once --good luck to anyone ever trying to piece my life together-- that is no real excuse.

So, Happy 2012 to those of you who bump into this blog, it is late but honestly I've been a slow one to catch up to the new numbers.  December, where did you go?

I didn't write about finally getting to spend New Year's Eve the Venezuelan way with my niece, nephew, sister and husband in Canada... It was the loveliest of times. Without any previous knowledge, we decided to cook the original Venezuelan meal, which is elaborate as it gets, and turned fingerlickin' good (according to all meat eaters). I continued to be weak for my niece, no news there, and I'm so glad to not be responsible for her discipline.

 

***

All is a blur, there's been death and a lingering feeling of uncertainty rearing its head more than usual.  There's been the days to be thankful for and beauty flying so fast I might have miss it if I stopped to write. I've been choosing to record life taking photos and use them as a map to remind me of the feeling. Open water, open heart...

In Miami for work, this artist made me fall in love with his work and grounded me a little. Maybe one day one of his wires can move in with me. I think life finds a way to put you back in place, even when blooming late, it is always the right time.

There's the family we're born into and then the one we find elsewhere.

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May you be shining in the grand luminosity, you lovely woman! 

May you feel times 100 all the love you gave on this earth.

May you rest your warrior soul.