I will post more pictures from the wedding. I am very-very-very tired, both emotionally and physically. And I am very happy for Vlad and Dylon.
The wedding was all about them, which is how it should be, but I was standing there in the crowd and recalling many past moments, starting from the image of this tiny thin baby body with match-like limbs. I with two five-year-olds, exiting the Immigration Office at ORD on October 23, 1996. Our endless conversations, and our conversation “about that.” And Vlad crying on my shoulder on the corner of State and Washington in broad daylight.
And when we returned home, I asked Boris (rhetorically, of course): how could it happen that we did everything wrong, and it turned out so perfect?! It’s scary even to think about how horrible things could turn if I won’t go to the US, fearless out of shire ignorance, having no idea what I am doing. All my decisions I was most criticized for, but especially these two: that I decided to have babies in the most inconvenient moment of my life, the life of my country and history in general, and that I decided to go to America and take my kids with me.
Not calculated, not thought-through, and completely irresponsible…