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To My Niece or Nephew #2

November 14, 2011

In May 2012, my first niece or nephew will be born.  I have been writing letters to Baby.


Dear Baby,

My house is quiet tonight.  It’s quiet, save for the gentle rhythmic rumble of stew on the stove and the tapping of my fingers on  the keys.  The stove light above my oven is the only thing turned on in the kitchen, and I’m sitting at the table, with a candle flickering, and thinking about you.  When the day fades away and everything gets put to rest, here I sit, daydreaming about what you will look like, the sound your voice will make, and who you will be.  I sit thinking about love and miracles and the way God breathes every bend of your fingers into existence.

I’m at my kitchen table with the soft light and warm candle-flame glow and I’m hoping that you’ll know one day that this is your home too.  I’m hoping one day, you’ll burst through my door without knocking, throw your backpack on the floor and grab a cookie from my jar without saying a word. I’m hoping you’ll kick off your elementary-school shoes and curl up on the couch with me, as if my couch was your couch and my home was your home.  I’m hoping you will recognize the feel of my floor beneath your socks, the smell of my “cuddle blankets,” and the power in knowing you belong to me too.

I hope the beat up scratches of my hand-me-down kitchen table have your marks too.  I’m hoping your crayons will slip onto its surface when we color together, your pencil shavings will get lodged into its grooves, and at some point you will write your name in permanent Sharpie under its surface.  I hope you brand yourself into this space, sweet little Baby, so that this place might be a haven for you too.

For now, the candle flame sways with just me at the table.  It flickers and dims, and every so often shines bright enough to illumine the handle on my front door.  The gold brass knob glows long enough for me to see your hand on that door, turning it slowly, about to peek your head through the crack in the opening.  I see you coming inside.  I see you smile.  I see the face of love I’ve been waiting so long to meet.

Oh, sweet little angel.  I’m so happy you’re here.

I love you, Baby.  I’m already praying for you.


Auntie L

One Comment leave one →
  1. December 31, 2011 3:27 pm

    This is incredible. Lauren, so many of your posts bring tears to my eyes. I’m so moved by your beautiful writing and by the overflowing love you have for so many. You must be a wonderful aunt!

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