One decade ago today, a baby boy was born. I went (either that very day or the next (it was, after all, 10 years ago)) to the hospital to meet him. Someone handed him to me. And I held the bundle of blankets that held him. I looked into his blue eyes and saw something remarkable.
We became good friends, this boy and me. I would build him towers from blocks. He would gleefully knock them down. I would blow him bubbles. He would run around popping them and shriek with joy.
He called me Gaga then (this was way before Lady).
He was a boy's boy, this one. He was happy in mud puddles and piles of leaves and racing up and down hills. He loved his bike, Star Wars and Legos. He still loves his bike, Star Wars and Legos. I watched him develop and grow out of a favorite shirt. I helped him practice hitting, throwing and catching a baseball. I tried to show him that things can be fun even if you aren't the very best. But that it's important to try your hardest. Life can be confusing, can't it?
It's less confusing when you can make a child's eyes smile.
This photo is one of my very favorite photos in this world. It feels to me like a perfect, peaceful moment.
It is the boy again, being very much a boy. At the zoo, quietly enjoying the mist tent on a hot summer's day. A day on which the boy was so excited to see the elephants and big cats that I had to give him a piece of gum to chew to give him something else to think about.
At some point, I moved far away from the boy (geographically speaking). I missed him, and he missed Maximilian. He came to visit a couple of times. We had fun at the beach and in boats on a gator hunt that would have made Mr. Dundee envious.
When I would go home to visit, the boy and I would go on adventures together. I took him birding. I put him in my kayak and gave him the paddle. I let him walk on the ice of a frozen pond. I put up a tent in the backyard, and we camped. We discussed the various methods of bear protection. We discussed the potential for one super hero to triumph over another. We went to museums. We went canoeing with my mother and two dogs (and no, we did not tip over). I watched the boy become a big brother - twice. I watched him play baseball and basketball and show his cattle.
Last year, my sister had a child, and I officially became an aunt. The boy isn't exactly thrilled with my new official aunt status. But he will always have me to be there for him.
How can it be that it has been 10 years since I held that blanket? I do not honestly know. The boy is only five or maybe six. I am missing some years in there somewhere. But I think he can account for them all.
On your 10th birthday, and every day, for you a thousand times over - peace man...
Note to the boy's mother and father: If this will embarrass the boy, please don't show him. Just give him a hug for me. I don't want any eye-rolling on my account (because we all know that the stage of eye-rolling seriousness begins in earnest when a person turns 10 years old - but we will all love him anyway).
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