Little one,

Little one,

right now, before your first breath,

before your name settles into the world,

we sit together, your family,

trying on names spoken in many languages.

We say Tekli,

and remember your grandfather,

a life carried forward with grace

that refuses to forget where it came from.

We say Kabi,

and your sister laughs,

a small hand reaching for another,

a promise that love is something we do.

We say Kosti,

and the family grows wider,

all the relatives who will one day

call you their own.

We say Kari,

and memories thread together,

as if you are not just arriving,

but returning.

We say Koda,

and a place to land,

a reminder that even in exile,

you are home.

We say Medet,

and feel the joy of moments,

how time itself has been waiting

just for you.

And in between each name,

there is wondering,

there is love so full

it doesn’t yet fit into words.

You are not here yet,

and still, you are already

everywhere.

Whichever name finds you,

know this:

you are welcomed,

you are woven into us,

you are the name

we didn’t name until now.

Come when you are ready,

little one.

We are here,

imagining your future

into the air.