Last Saturday morning around this time while driving to my usual Saturday racquetball game, I started thinking about where we were 22 years before to the day. Deirdre, Carrick and I were in Bogota, where we'd met Duncan for the first time a few days before at CRAN (Foundation Center for Reintegration and Child Care), and now we were now all celebrating his first birthday in an apartment owned by our lovely and extraordinary Colombian facilitator, Clara Toro, where we were staying. As I drove up Saw Mill River Road, I felt tears streaming down my face as I considered our good fortune with our two children, and now our grandchild.
The night before I had been half listening to a special featuring Dr. Wayne Dyer on PBS. He spoke repeatedly about the profound effect that a women who said she had glimpsed "the other side," and recovered from a ravaging cancer, had had on him. What Anita Moorjani found on the other side, she told Dyer in an interview later in the program, was a sense of pure, unconditional love. (She's written a book about the experience called Dying To Be Me.)
I was thinking in the car that I probably won't experience a greater sense of unconditional love — at least on this side of the unfathomable equation — than I was right then.
This morning, we are in Bogota in another apartment of Clara Toro's. It's Duncan's first trip back to his native country. A few minutes after we arrived last night, I looked at one of the picture mosaics in our master bedroom suite and I immediately spotted this picture of Carrick and Duncan when they were about 7 and 2 respectively.
And a short while ago, Carrick messaged a photo from home.
It's going to be a mushy week.