As I am writing this, I am sitting on the garden porch of the house we currently live in, in Atwater Village, Los Angeles. It`s the house of the family I have been working with since late summer. They became true friends and invited us to stay here during their travels to Argentina and so we did.

It is the second house we got to sit over the course of last year. We also looked after two dogs from time to time. Two houses. Two dogs. Three families I worked for.

We grow close to the things that surround us and this time having to say goodbye is hard. It is hard because I don`t know when l`ll get to see them again. We grow attached to places, people, animals, because they touch us.

I love each dog we have been sitting like my own and I often find myself missing them painfully. The same counts for the kids. Julian`s softness, Anais`wittyness, Luna`s strong will and chubby cheeks, Joean`s bright mind… And then there`s the sounds and the smells. April and May smells like orange blossom and jasmine here in LA and these smells throw me right back to Tujunga where Yaron and I stayed while getting married last year. I swear, if I could captivate that smell in a bottle I would get drunk on it, letting myself getting swept away by sweet memories every day. The nightingale in front of this house`s bedroom window at night. The incessant chirping of the crickets.

I will miss this place.

I will miss this place and I am sitting here, on the garden porch being ravaged by mosquitoes because I want to immerse myself forever in these last moments.

To make them last. To cherish them properly. To feel what there is to feel without holding back.

A deep pool of emotions, ready for me to dive in.