“Quick! Write it before you forget! Those words only come once in many moons” I said to myself. And I searched for a napkin, a pen or crayon. But then my mind got preoccupied in finding them. And when I did find the pen, when I did find that canvas, the wind of fortune had taken that flame and left only a whispering smoke.
Perhaps tomorrow or some unexpected night they will return to me and I shall write of you with those fleeting, magnificent words. 
I ran into this poem by the Poet of Poets, Pablo Neruda. And it gave me the chills because it’s title is the date I proposed to Monica. And after I read it, it moved me because I related it to the forecoming of my little Seanna, who at the time walked hand in hand with God, waiting for us to seek her out.. to call her from the heavens.. and give us the light of her smile..
8 de Septiembre
Hoy, este día fue una copa plena,
hoy, este día fue la inmensa ola,
hoy, fue toda la tierra.
Hoy el mar tempestuoso
nos levantó en un beso
tan alto que temblamos
a la luz de un relámpago
y, atados, descendimos
a sumergirnos sin desenlazamos.
Hoy nuestros cuerpos se hicieron extensos,
crecieron hasta el límite del mundo
y rodaron fundiéndose
en una sola gota
de cera o meteoro.
Entre tú y yo se abrió una nueva puerta
y alguien, sin rostro aún,
allí nos esperaba.
(English Translation)
September 8th
Today, this day was a brimming cup,
today, this day was the immense wave,
today, it was all the earth.
Today the stormy sea
lifted us in a kiss
so high that we trembled
in a lightning flash
and, tied, we went down
to sink without untwining.
Today our bodies became vast,
they grew to the edge of the world
and rolled melting
into a single drop
of wax or meteor.
Between you and me a new door opened
and someone, still faceless,
was waiting for us there.
Mónica acarrea ese bebe, ese esplendor que va durmiendo, sonriendo, bailando en su vientre y que, incluso sin conocer el mundo, sabe quién soy.
Qué me lleva a pensar eso? Escucha su corazón, escucha esos saltos, esas patadas, ese vibrar que es como… como una bandera en las alturas de Neuschwanstein.
Monica carries in her that child, that splendor that goes on sleeping, smiling, dancing in her womb and that even without knowing the world, knows who I am.
What leads me to think this? Hear it’s heart, listen as it jumps, kicks, vibrates like… like a flag in the heights of Neuschwanstein.
* Friends, readers, we ask that you do not leave any comments on any other place but this blog. The reason is simple, when you leave comments on Facebook or Myspace, they will disappear one day when we decide that we have outgrown them and disable our accounts. When you leave comments on this blog however, your comments will remain for years and years to come. You will leave your mark and the comments will be a part of our history. We will always look back at this entry and see everything that has been written without worry that someone else can delete them since we own the content of this site. Feel free to leave a comment and share with us this joyous occasion. -Monica, Alex, our Love Child, and Romeo.
A few of you have expressed interest in knowing the details of how it happened since I didn’t say anything on the first blog entry. To keep this PG, unfortunately for all of you I am going to have to skip the best part of how the baby happened. 
I’ll start from that Sunday afternoon when I went to practice with my dedicated soccer team. When I returned home as soon as I was turning the knob in the front door, Monica semi opened the door and told me to close my eyes. “Nice!” I thought to myself. “I just gotta take a quick shower and I am ready to roll.” She held my hand and guided me into our bedroom. I stepped into our love room and I could distinctly smell the roses she had placed all around. I was ready to open my eyes and put some love music, you know? Some “Let’s get it on” by Marvin Gaye, some R&B, some “Your body is calling me” by R. Kelly, you know, some of that good stuff. I was smirking, grinning like a teenager about to get some action, thinking, “Man, I must have done something good!” I could feel my body temperature rising. But nope, forget about it, I opened my eyes and the first thing I see is a basket full with a stork, baby paraphernalia, a handmade card, a champagne bottle, 2 Cigars and the golden glow of some twenty candles that did not match Monica’s smile as she told me “We are pregnant!” My reaction? You can read it here.
Delivering the Baby News
A week ago, our child was touched by the hand of God. Then at that moment, at that instant, our child… our love child had his or her first heartbeat.
When she told me, I felt the urge to cry. I knew not what to say. A sudden surge of emotions charged within my heart and made my way towards her, my beloved, the soon to be mother of our love child. I wanted to scream, I want to yell, to jump like a wild monkey, a crazy fool, like the careless spirited kid of my youth. But I could not. No, instead, I closed my eyes, and unleashed my joy in the arms of my beloved, my Monica. I hugged her. Held her tight to me, where she belonged. With yearning eyes, I looked at the opened windows of her soul and I searched for him, or her, who was in her, in her womb, wanting to reach him with my hands, wanting to touch his or her face. I searched for that child who knows God in His perfection better than we do. God has said “I knew you before you were in the womb.” And now, his or her heart beat is proof, yet again, of God’s love. God has blessed us with the greatest of gifts. She and I have nourished our love and now life has come from it.
Today we left paradise. But I shall not write of the boring plane ride, or how I dreaded going back to “Reality.” No. Instead I shall write of Paradise one last time… And it is with an indistinct sadness or nostalgia, but more appreciation that I say “Farewell, my homeland.” Goodbye my paradise. Of you, we take a piece with us. A piece of your romance inspiring sunsets, of your furious rain storms, of the deep thunder that shook our lovers’ hut when your heavens spoke. Thanks for the memories. I leave you now, with a heart as heavy as your sudden sea winds. On your soft carpet made of wild green moss we ran like children, laughing, chasing each other, hiding behind the palm trees that stood like sleeping towers. Hand in hand, she and I walked your white sands, losing our bare feet in the foam of your endless waves. How can we forget? How can we not remember the straw hut where we, man and woman, laid entwined like roots, linking our bodies and souls.
Thanks for the memories, oh Little Corn Island. May your people prosper. May your sands, your bodies of translucent water, your delicate huts keep the hearts of lovers aflame and the Marriott at bay. May your beauty remain a secret, like the hidden caverns of your seas, and only found by those seeking the honey of your moon… and may you still remain a virgin paradise…
And so I close this chapter of this small island, whose moon nourished us with honey and the type of feverish love newlyweds endure. I leave with this poem written by the poets of poets, Pablo Neruda (English translation at bottom):
La noche en la isla
Toda la noche he dormido contigo
junto al mar, en la isla.
Salvaje y dulce eras entre el placer y el sueño,
entre el fuego y el agua.
Tal vez muy tarde
nuestros sueños se unieron
en lo alto o en el fondo,
arriba como ramas que un mismo viento mueve,
abajo como rojas raíces que se tocan.
Tal vez tu sueño
se separó del mío
y por el mar oscuro
me buscaba
como antes
cuando aún no existías,
cuando sin divisarte
navegué por tu lado,
y tus ojos buscaban
lo que ahora
pan, vino, amor y cólera
te doy a manos llenas
porque tú eres la copa
que esperaba los dones de mi vida.
He dormido contigo
toda la noche mientras
la oscura tierra gira
con vivos y con muertos,
y al despertar de pronto
en medio de la sombra
mi brazo rodeaba tu cintura.
Ni la noche, ni el sueño
pudieron separarnos.
He dormido contigo
y al despertar tu boca
salida de tu sueño
me dio el sabor de tierra,
de agua marina, de algas,
del fondo de tu vida,
y recibí tu beso
mojado por la aurora
como si me llegara
del mar que nos rodea.
The Night on the Island
All night I have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,
between fire and water.
Perhaps very late
our dreams joined
at the top or at the bottom,
Up above like branches moved by a common wind,
down below like red roots that touch.
Perhaps your dream
drifted from mine
and through the dark sea
was seeking me
as before,
when you did not yet exist,
when without sighting you
I sailed by your side,
and your eyes sought
what now-
bread, wine, love, and anger-
I heap upon you
because you are the cup
that was waiting for the gifts of my life.
I have slept with you
all night long while
the dark earth spins
with the living and the dead,
and on waking suddenly
in the midst of the shadow
my arm encircled your waist.
Neither night nor sleep
could separate us.
I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.
