We know it takes a village to raise children.
The thing is, I have been abroad for such a long time that the word “abroad” has lost its original meaning.
As a result, no family around. No mother or mother-in-law, sister or brother or anyone blood-related in sight that would love to occasionally take care of my children.
This is why I decided to try and have my family adopted by a grandmother.
A quick note on the board in the stairs of the building where we live and she materialised, enthusiastic and eager to be part of the project.
As if being productive in the workplace was the highest – or only – way to contribute to our society, old people in big cities like London are often relegated to the margins.
Initiatives of charities are important and noble (check out this article in the Guardian) but I really believe in small scale actions.
Even the best social experiment will never have the same spontaneity and humanity as a real exchange.
My family needed a babysitter and more than that, we needed a wise figure in our life, a spiritual and practical grandmother.
She needed to be that figure for someone. And we met.