February 5th, 1991

It was a cold February morning, and as almost every morning I went to my parent’s bed not because I particularly wanted to cuddle with them, but mostly because I wanted to avoid getting ready for school. I joined my mom, who was still in bed reading a maternity book. She asked me if I had thought about a name for my brother who was expected to come any moment now. I started brainstorming, and the only boy names that came to mind were the boys from my class: Ermal, Erion, Ervin, Beni, Ardian…I went on and on, even mentioning names of boys that I could remember from other classes in my school, but my mom didn’t seem to like any of them. I stopped and instead placed my head on her beach ball so I could hear noises from my brother, whom I was so excited about meeting. Dad was shaving in the bathroom close by and the water running in the sink interfered with the movements in my mom’s tummy. He entered the bedroom to get his brown coat, which was most likely identical to the coats that other fathers around town wore that morning. Dad kissed mom goodbye, and as he left she said to him: I have a feeling about today…why don’t you just go to work and let them know that you are taking the day off.
At first I didn’t really understand, but when I started getting ready for school only to be stopped by my mom who said that it would be better if I stayed home, I knew that February 5, 1991 was going to be the day that I would meet my little brother. An hour passed and she called my dad at work. All she said to him was this: get here as soon as you can. So he came, and they left and I stayed home with grandma, and my sister. Later that day, dad took us to the hospital to see the baby, who had not been given a name, and as we would later learn would not be given one until three months after his birth. The delay was not due to any particular traditions or rituals in our culture. It was simply a matter of disagreement between my parents, the grandma’s and the grandpa’s, the uncles and the aunts as to what name he would get. For three months he would be known as “the boy”, until he got the name Marvin.
The day that I met my brother, was also the first time that it snowed in Tirana since the February that I was born.