My nephew, Joshua, was four years old and strapped in his car seat in the back of my old, beater car. We were coming back to Raleigh from Asheville for a weekend of "Lilo and Stitch," the dinosaur museum, Exploris and the "build-a-bear" store at the mall.
"Aunt Lee Lee?" he asked as we drove down I-40.
"Yes, buddy?" I responded.
"Are you my mommy's sister?"
"Yes, buddy, I am. Just like Banyan is your brother."
He thought about that for a while. Then he said:
"My mommy has another sister. Uncle Amy. She lives in heaven."
As the tears started to stream down my face over the pure, unadulterated sweetness of that moment, I just wanted to wrap that little boy in safety and comfort and make sure he never, ever had to feel pain. I wanted to make sure he had ice cream for every meal and had the Disney Channel playing on a nonstop loop all around him. I wanted him to have a pet unicorn that could fly and take him across a rainbow after school. I wanted him to have the golden ticket and live in the chocolate factory with the happy Oompa-Loompas. I wanted him to be Bastian Balthazar Bux, gliding across the clouds as Limahl crooned "Never Ending Story" in the background.
Six years later, I still feel that way about both my nephews. Joshua's 10 and Banyan's 8, but I want them to stay little 'til their Carters wear out. And I want them to... just. be. happy.
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If that made you cry, leave me a comment, 'cause I'm a little teary, too. :)
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