Since I saw you the first time, during those short but long instants when you were learning to tell between water and air I knew I would have changed my belief system. I stopped complaining with G-d about the clear and understandable miracles He used to create for His nation while crossing the Red Sea. While in our times you should be able to remember His hand looking at the perfect syncronization of moon and sun. It’s unfair, I used to complain. How can we go on and proclaim all the world You are there, without having concrete proofs at our hands. Some secret cards to throw on that table game that is life, when everything seems to go against your convictions. Then you arrived.With that reddish color and slow voice. With pain mixed to joy, tears to hope, a new world compared to the existing one. A new creation born from prayers and love. You were there. With a white wrapping which reminded an envelope. On which there could be a stamp. Miracle on its way. And you, my little baby, arrived in my arms. Now, after two months, when you are embraced from your mummy far away from me, your grandma, and I can still smell the trace of your presence in my kitchen. After you left and the signs of the wheels of your carriage are still on the floor of my dining room. Now I find the brightness of ideas to declare to myself and the world that yes, you are the proof that open miracles are still happening every single instant and day. From the height of your infancy, like you were sitting on a throne made of breaths and voice which did not exist a few minutes earlier, you were a great teacher. Thank you my little Baby. I love you with all my heart. Oma