Julie Taha, Christmas Eve 2010.
On Christmas Eve, Julie kicked and screamed her way through a C-section, arriving in Indianapolis, a tiny spot on the western hemisphere of Planet Earth.
And now she won’t stop yawning.
She gets that bored indifference from her uncle, but luckily everything else is her parents: at a slight two-and-a-half kilos, fair-skinned and button-nosed, she’s her father thirty years ago. And her full pink cheeks and thick head of hair are her mother’s.
Julie Taha, my niece, Tarek and Zeina’s daughter, I can’t wait to meet you!
