My first time in an airplane was in some Cessna 25 years ago. I had never imagined I’d ever sit in a plane, because that was something for rich people. But then after our visit to Legoland in Denmark, my dad decided we’d see the park from above. The whole was so inconceivable, not just to see earth from above, but to actually separate from the earth in a plane, with every one of us inside it.

I write these words as my passport is full of stamps, and I’m flying back to Shanghai. And it dawns on me that although my mind still thinks it’s incredible that a 100,000 kilo plane can liftoff, I’m no longer desperate to look out of the window and see the land from above, and I’m no longer thrilled by the spectacle of liftoff.

The real magic is back at home. Hasse is now nearly three months old. The doctor has said to carry her outside, not in a stroller, but letting her look around — to peak her curiosity and develop her vision. And while carrying her, we see a tree and I explain what it is, how it grows its fruits. A bird flies by. We’re at the crossroads and look at the cars and scooters. A raindrop falls on her face. I play nursery rhymes from my childhood to her. We’re in an old town, and the smell of fried food reaches her nose.

I never thought I could relive my childhood, experiencing things as simple as outside sunlight for the same time — but here we are. And there’s so much more to come, as she’ll find her way in this world of miracles. She’s already starting to make sounds, and increasingly reacting to her environment.

She turns her head, sees me, and smiles.
And within that smile is the whole world.