I usually write on the last day of the year my resolutions for the next one, those desires I believe or hope can come true for the months to come. They are a row of ten and at the end of the year I check them again to see how many were accomplished.

My son was first on my last year list and I’m happy the Universe replied. This year is different, as now I have him playing in my belly and almost all my thoughts go towards those movements of life. I believe babies come with pure energy, innocence and light and I think every birth is a blessing and a gift for the world.

Starting to write my resolutions for this year I had a sense of worry for all the changes our planet undertook lately. This is the stage where I bring my little one to play and where other innocent and pure tiny ones are landing every day. Maybe it’s a pregnancy effect but I’m more perceptive than before to what happens around us on a big scale. I see eye for eye ethnic wars, people gone dancing in clubs or laying on the beach and not coming back, amazingly beautiful countries of Middle East and Africa destroyed by war and greed and cancelled for turism maybe for good. And above all I don’t see snow coming from the sky. I see the mountains around me like shamed ladies that lost their white rich furs and remained naked in the cold.

I guess my son will be my greatest adventure and I already dream of hopping on planes and land on remote islands or crowded cities together. I hope the world map won’t get filled with huge “no travel war zones” when he grows up. And I hope he will have as I have, Arabs and Jews as close friends.

I also hope huge snowflakes will land on his tiny nose, and he will experience what defined my childhood winter days: playing in so much snow that it entered into boots and under the clothes. I didn’t care much as we always had to finish some huge snow man and we stayed out under snow and cold until our parents called us home. That sensation of frozen tiny hands in front of chimney heat and of snow melting on the spine before taking out the clothes, I want it for him, as simple as it seems. I want him to wake up at Christmas and see only half of the window because it just snowed so heavy in the night. And if he will ever wish to go and see the land of polar bears I hope they won’t exist only on documentary files.

I have other resolutions up to my number ten, I also wish him to be born healthy and smiling under a lucky star and my love with his father to continue to shine. But I realize that no matter how much we manage to succeed in having a beautiful family, our life will just be happier in a world with peace and big white snowflakes.