Thoughts on Change, Growth, Family

"Aunt Michelle!"

It didn't make sense. A tallish young man was calling to me from across the yard. He waved and shouted again, "Aunt Michelle!"

It couldn't be. He couldn't be. I watched my nephew stride toward me in long loping steps. He grinned to see the surprise on my face. Where was my Doren? Where was the little boy who used to play tricks on me, who would never sit still? Suddenly he was right in front of me, holding me in a bear hug. He smelled of woodsmoke and flannel. He was taller than me.

"What's the matter with you?" He stepped back and looked at me as I fought back tears.

"I'm fine. I just never expected to see you this grown up."

I don't know what I expected. It had been almost four years since I'd laid eyes on him. Certainly I knew that he would change, I just never dreamed that he would change that much. We sat down by the firepit and put our feet up on the stone ledge to warm them. I waited. He didn't say much else. He pulled out his cell phone and started texting his friends. He is, after all, a teen.

My brother and I continued our conversation. I couldn't help but remember back to the days when my brother wore his own letter jacket, to the days when he would sit next to me and we wouldn't talk much. Now he was asking me about my life, confirming that I was happy, that I was safe and cared for. Funny, when he was a kid, I didn't expect to see him this grown up, either.

Thirteen of us piled into several vehicles and made our way to a Tex-Mex restaurant last night. We enjoyed a meal together, laughing and joking, sharing old memories and building new ones. It was a joy to see my brother's wife light up the room with her vibrant personality and to see my brother recognize the same. There are times when "belonging" is more difficult to define than it is to describe.

Growing up, our mother used to tell us (me and my brothers) that we could always count on each other, even if we might not be able to count on anyone or anything else. The beauty of this (I think) is that - by extension - we are able to count on the love that surrounds our families. The beauty that lies in inclusion - in familial love - simply because we love the father, or the wife, or the sister of someone who is so very special to us is a gift which tugs at my heart each time I sit with it.

Today I am grateful for a sense of belonging. I am aware that I have had many opportunities to make choices which could lead to living life in a much different manner than I do today. I am also aware that others have chosen to include me in their lives, sometimes not even fully aware of how their choices might change my life. I want to be mindful of this as I move through my days.