Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:
So he has stayed. And will remain. Our baby has learned to know and appreciate us as dear and suitable people (this is how we imagine it: his star following us for decades, spying on us, before he made the — happy, painful — decision to come to us. Blindly, deafly, in complete ignorance, we agreed and made it possible. Then you made it possible all over again. We got together, and out of the day-long, week-long, month-long test phase the certainty arose: we want to stay together. The will to stay, to stay together, is big, has to be big, how else would such an arrangement be possible? We assume there is intention, not fate, behind everything. It is a fact that today is precisely the day, that right now is the minute, the instant, when we decide, have decided, to maintain a living connection with each other all the way to the natural limit, even though we can’t furnish any proof of this decision.) So: he has stayed. Just as right now he is standing next to me (I’m lying on the couch, with a sore throat, a stuffed nose, a temperature) and gazing at me (into my glazed eyes) for the past five minutes, holding onto my scarf with his left hand and allowing me to think in peace: In a fever everything looks lighter, thoughts are more palpable, babies more real.