Sunday Scribbles #3: Baby Spanish Steps
I went to Valencia this week to pick up the keys to our flat. I drunk Agua de Valencia — the local cocktail made from cava, orange juice, vodka and gin — and felt the warmth of the sun on my overwintered skin. Zephyr came home this week. He’s no longer in hospital and released back in to the wild. Free to feel sun on his skin and hopefully move to Valencia soon.
Before his release date, Zephyr had spent the past seven weeks in hospital. Nearly half of his short life. It’s difficult to remember sometimes what he was like before. Smiling, chirpy and restless. He’s incredibly different now and it’s unlikely he will ever be the same again. Still, we have no idea what he will be like, how he will interact with the world as he grows older.
I hope to bring him to Spain soon. In January or February. I still have hopes of him being a happy Spanish baby. Playing in the Turía gardens running through the heart of Valencia and learning to count in Valenciano, Spanish and English.
Before Zephyr’s accident, we had absolutely everything perfectly planned. We had mapped out the route to Valencia. The dogs in the car via France with Dan. Zephyr and I by plane. We were going to arrive a week ahead to prepare the apartment and get used to the city. I was excited to meet other mums with babies, find a yoga studio and carve out a routine. Now all of that seems incredibly distant. An unrealised dream.
I never ever used to plan anything. I just followed my instincts, lived on the edge of my seat and didn’t worry about the future. If I went travelling, I would rarely book accommodation or flights more than a few days in advance and would change my plans depending on the direction of the breeze. Everything was easy. Everything was unplanned.
When I returned to U.K. from Egypt this Spring, I was determined to be more “responsible” and grown up. The type of person to book flights several weeks or months in advance and a thorough planner. After living like this for six months or so, I can safely confirm that I was much happier when I lived in the moment, worried and planned less.
Zephyr has shown me the most beautiful and ugly parts of humanity, but most of all he’s taught me that we have no idea what will happen, so agonising over the future is a waste of energy. As is any action not rooted from love or hope.
