I ran into a woman I know through the community of workers in housing rights and advocacy at a coffee shop this week. She has three grown kids and seeing Dylan, was completely smitten. "This time is so, so precious," she said. "Looking back, I wish I had more. Really, they grow so fast and soon they are sitting at the table talking with you, telling you about their lives." Then she added with a grin, "Miia, have many. Bam, bam, bam, bam. Fast. And many. The hardest part is only 12 years." 12 years. Funny lady.
I like these chances to get out of the house and meet with friends. I especially like the sweet and delicate combination of baby world but also life outside baby universe- cycling advocacy, ethics in human resources, the courage of those who seek help.
This week was also the annual homeless memorial. Dylan was with me, sleeping against my chest the whole way through but the last minutes. When he started crying at the end, I stood up to sway at the back of the church. I didn't want to disturb the others. After, when the service was over and I was chatting with colleagues and friends, they commented on how the sound of a baby was just the right way to end the service - a note of innocence and hope. Funny how I worried about bothering people and yet he was so easily welcomed.
Off to bed. Peace out, Miia