Family Bonds, No Matter the Distance.
During our early years in Holland, my sister Keren was also living there—though on the opposite side of the country in Nijmegen.
She was busy building her life, pursuing her MA and then her PhD, and creating a home with her partner, Femke.
Even though we didn’t get to see each other often—between studies, work, and the general chaos of life—it was comforting to know that family was just a couple of hours away if needed. And when Thom was born, that distance suddenly felt like something we had to bridge more often.
So, every now and then, I’d bundle up baby Thom, pack the car, and embark on the two-hour drive to Nijmegen.
These visits were precious, and Keren always made sure they were special.
Whether it was an outing in nature, a walk through the park, or, when the famously fickle Dutch weather wasn’t cooperating, an afternoon of games and laughter indoors, she made every moment count.
Beyond just being fun, these visits gave me something invaluable—a chance to reconnect with my sister and let Thom soak up love from extended family.
And, if I’m completely honest, take a little break from the 24/7 role of ‘Mom.’
There’s something beautiful about sharing the responsibility of raising a child, the way it used to be in traditional communities, where everyone played a part.
When Thom was born, we were adamant about carrying her in a sling—a concept that, back then, in Western society at least, was still considered a bit unusual.
These days, baby-wearing is trendy and praised for its benefits.
But at the time, I had to ask a friend to sew me a sling because commercial options were scarce and wildly expensive.
Of course, my mother (and her friends) didn’t quite approve. In their minds, a baby needed a stroller.
So, despite my insistence that we didn’t require one, they went ahead and got us one anyway.
Most of the time, it sat untouched in storage, gathering dust.
But when we traveled—especially when visiting Keren or when my mom came to see us—the stroller had its moment in the sun.
And, I’ll admit, it did make life a little easier. Long walks were less exhausting, and when Thom decided she wanted to linger in one spot for far too long, it was much simpler to scoop her up, strap her in, and keep moving.
Every one of those visits reminded me of something important.
No matter how far apart we are, how busy life gets, or how quickly the years fly by, family is an anchor.
It grounds us, reminds us who we are, and brings us back to what truly matters.
There’s a reason she’s called Mother Earth, after all.
