I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. The date was May 21, 1987, and I was almost 16 years old. His grandma and I waited impatiently in an empty hallway, outside labor and deliver. We stood in front of a set of big steel gray doors that blocked our sight, but not the sounds of life or its beginnings on the other side. It was almost like we were die-hard fans waiting backstage to catch a glimpse of our favorite superstar.
The wait seemed excruciating, especially for a teenager wanting instant gratification. At first, the only noise we could hear was the sound of our own anticipation. Then suddenly a faint cry from behind the doors became audible. And it grew louder and louder. I realized that these were the first sounds of a tiny little person coming into this world, a stranger that I loved instantly. My mother and I looked at each other and both grinned ear to ear.
Moments later his father emerged from behind the steel doors. "It's a boy," he declared. We cheered in celebration, jumping up and down with joy.
A boy. A nephew.
Now at this point in my life, I was not new to aunt-hood. After all, he was the fifth in what turned out to be a long line of grandchildren and also the second boy. This was, however, the first family birth in which I was present at the hospital, so it made the day extra special, not to mention the fact that this particular boy was a long time in coming.
Yes, he took his time making his debut into this world. A couple of extra weeks to be exact. So the excitement and anticipation of his arrival was palpable up and down the deserted halls of that hill country hospital.
There are a lot of changes and new things happening in my family right now. With my birthday coming up and once again feeling the excitement and anticipation of change, I've been reflecting on what used to be and what lies ahead, as anyone would naturally do. As I look back on that little boy who made his way into this world with his own fan club waiting in the wings, there are certain feelings and emotions that I can only reserve for him.
Back in those days when my sister and her family would depart after a visit to Grandma's house, my first thought or reflection would usually revolve around her first born, Seth, and what he had invariably gotten into during his time at Grandma's. Sometimes my thoughts could just as easily involve her third child, Joel, the easy-going one who played so well with his cousins, or son #4, Paul, the sweet, angel-faced boy with long silky eyelashes that any woman would envy (Paul will hate that I've said this).
My first thought, though, usually wasn't about her second child, that curly, tow-headed little boy with big beautiful blue eyes and loads of energy named Caleb. This wasn't because Caleb was any less loved or appreciated, or that I never thought of him. It was just that he was, well, so quiet, which if you come from a big family, you know this usually means less attention on the whole.
Regardless of his quiet nature, I will always fondly remember him as the little boy who loved to be rocked to sleep by his mommy. I can never forget how my sister would sit him in her lap in a rocking chair, and he would lean against her, pacifier in his mouth. Her long hair would be flowing down around her shoulders and his. As she rocked him, you could see his eyes getting heavier and heavier and the sucking on his pacifier slower and less regular.
It was usually at this point that Caleb would shyly and quietly reach up over his head toward his mother and grab a lock of her hair. Gently he would twist it round and round, over and over again, caressing it lovingly between his tiny little fingers. With his finger movements getting slower and slower, he would finally drift off to sleep, fingers and mouth still, but arm remaining above his head. It was almost like he was reaching out to her for that extra little reassurance only a mommy can give before he could take that last step into unknown dreamland.
Caleb is the strong, silent type. A constant in the family, always quiet, always unassuming. In many ways stoic, even at a tender young age. Yet, when you look into his eyes, you see a hope, a potential and a curiosity about life that makes you think "wow, this kid is something special."
Now that special little boy is all grown up and doesn't need his mommy (or daddy even) like that anymore. He's still a man of few words, but it's hard to tell right now. You see, he is starting the next phase of his adult life, and it is such an exciting one, he can't help but talk about it.
He has chosen a bride and will become the father of twins very soon. I could not be more thrilled for him and his beloved, Felicia. I wish for them all the love and happiness that this world provides. I hope that their lives are filled with more sweet than sorrow and that they experience the joy of finding beauty in everyday, especially with those precious little babies on the way. I pray that Caleb and Felicia find the perfect balance for their new family and have unforgettable decades of possibilities in the years to come.
This is an aunt's sincere desire for her nephew, his wife, and the next generation that they carry, even if she is not quite ready to think of herself as that old. (Honestly, who gave these kids permission to grow up?!?!)
So with all this said, I think I can "forgive" Caleb for making me a great aunt WAY BEFORE I'm 40. After all, there are worse things in life than being called great. I think I may just have to totally embrace the title and require everyone to refer to me as such. Because by the time my birthday rolls around next year, I will in fact, be great.
So I will celebrate the last birthday of its kind for me. A birthday where I'm just a plain ol' aunt, like I've always been, looking forward to a new year full of greats.
Band of Brothers: (l to r) Caleb, Seth, Paul and Joel
