My dream last night...

I was in italia last night. I was shopping along the cobble-stone streets, walking into tiny shops. There was a maze of stone buildings, twisting and towering and leaning over the streets. Tiny red flowers running up and down stairs and sleeping under windowsills.

I bought a fuzzy light green onesy for Little Bit, then realized, "I'm in Italy. Why am I buying something I could buy anywhere else?" I determined to find un libro di bambini where Little Bit could poke a pencil over the words and hear the story of Little Red Riding Hood in italian. Or peruse the music boxes...

I woke up feeling angry, alone, and missing a country I can't currently reach and a child I can't hold.

I miss hearing italiana in the streets. Walking by intriguing, brightly clothed people. I miss feeling slightly safe while discovering more twists in an ancient city. It's the ache of achieving a familiarity with something that alienated me.

It's a similar ache for my sister's unborn baby--something so far away that I long to know. I desperately wish I could be there while Kristin's belly is getting bigger and she's grumpy and uncomfortable. Somehow I'm convinced that this child will be the most pure, lovely, mischievous and fun kid in the whole world.

In my head I know babies are born every day. That this child will be human and scream and hurt and be hurt and that this kid will not live without scars. But I love this unknown child and I am so proud of my sister.