A London morning

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It happened almost 24 years ago in London and it’s strange that I still remember it so well. Across the street, a couple were leaving the hospital with their baby. Although it was July, the morning was not very warm. As the father stepped out into the street with the baby in his arms, there was a strong gush of wind and he immediately turned to shield the baby. I don’t know why but I found this move charming. He was a young father and a new father, still he was already so protective of his baby. Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose, but I was 18 at the time and thought it was a nice scene. Since then, I have often thought of this London morning and the father’s reaction. The baby seemed to be in good hands – but where is he now? (Somehow I thought it was a boy.) He’s at school by now, I thought five or six years later. Then secondary school; later, perhaps university. He’ll be 24 this July. I hope he’s fine. Perhaps he’s taking his  first steps towards a great career. I suppose I’ll never know. But for some reason I think he’s fine.

And at the end of July this year, perhaps there will be someone looking at a hospital entrance in Budapest as we leave for home with our daughter.

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