In Your Heart. In Your Hands.

   
    There is something magical that happens inside of you when you have your own baby and it is inexplicable.
    It's as if you see the flowers blooming and the sun shining like you've never seen it before, no matter how badly your nipples hurt from nursing.
    We took our first walk with Bruno into downtown Napa the other day, a place that has never honestly and truly caught much of my attention, and for the first time I looked upon the town with a deep wonder and satisfaction that had never stimulated me before. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. The flowers were blooming, and I hadn't been out of the house for two weeks.
    It reminded me of another very crucial moment in my life, when I was 24 years old and was driving back to America through Mexico after living in the jungle of Belize and the Caribbean for almost two years. I had left America with a lot of self righteous feelings and a sense of disillusionment with my country and that President Bush Jr. of the time - but two years in a lawless society where convenience was far from the way of life, shopping, industry, or culture -- and by the time I drove up to the American border from Mexico, I had never been so happy to see a Best Western that would allow my dog in the hotel room, to see a Subway sandwich shop and know there would be no surprises. I had never been so excited to see the generic American brands that have overpopulated our country and eliminated many mom and pop stores that I typically snubbed. It was an important moment of a true realization of relativity, which helped me understand happiness. "Stop looking so hard," I told myself. "It's right underneath your nose. In your heart. In your hands. You just need the courage to share it."