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December 23, 2002
Half way around the world today has already happened. Events travel backwards to reach me. I sit here, waiting in the past. Tia Sierra, you were already born as I lay sleeping; somewhere in last night’s forgotten dreams I saw your birth. Yesterday, my head ached with longing to see your arrival. I knew the phone would ring when I awoke, and I would hear the distant echos of ecstatic voices. Voices telling of the ease of your birth, laughing, as they describe your beauty. I imagine your newborn eyes on the ride home, squinting out the harsh Australian sun.