My niece Isabelle is leaving for Argentina, and I don’t know how I’m going to stand it. Isabelle is an adult, although I don’t know how that is possible, because I remember clearly the day she was born, on an extraordinarily cold day 22 years ago, and surely, I can’t be that old. I arrived at the hospital with a bouquet of flowers and a Mylar balloon that had gone flat because it could not stay in…