When I moved back home after two decades away living in San Francisco, one of the first things I did was attend my niece's high school play (under my no names policy, I will call her A). I simultaneously embarrassed myself by crying during the whole show and embarrassed her by prominently producing my iPhone every time she appeared on stage. That earned me a mid-performance glare, but what are aunts for if not to embarrass the teens in their life with overzealous displays of pride?
So I have four nieces — L4, L5, E and A. It is universally recognized that aunts have the easy job. They can:
Better still, they get to do all of this without the burden of tuition fees or the guilt of ruining anyone's life despite the best of intentions.
But let me be clear — none of that means our love is any less real or powerful.
I was introduced to the power of this love when I took E — the oldest of my nieces but then a toddler — on a walk in Manhattan. We obviously waited for the light before crossing the intersection. And there — 400 feet away — was a car cruising down the block and it was not slowing down. Needless to say, that driver got the glare he so justly deserved. Honestly, I don't know how parents do it. Apparently the second you have children the whole world becomes filled with creeps, potholes and frothing dogs.
And then there was the play I took A to when she was 14. During intermission, A needed to use the bathroom and wanted a soda. Now A is a Manhattan kid, which loosely means she was more worldly and mature at 11 than I was at 31. But just wandering off alone to the bathroom? I think not. This is Manhattan and I certainly wasn't going to tell my sister that I had lost her daughter on account of a bathroom trip.
If you haven't figured it out yet, there is a real downside to being the aunt. You have all of the worry and absolutely none of the experience. So at a stage when parents have long ago decided to assume their child is just fine absent a call from the police, I am still asking their child to "just at least text me if you aren't back by 2 a.m."
And then you have the times that will remain in your heart forever. Out of the blue, L4's mom asked if I could help L4 with her essay for college applications. L4 would even travel to Manhattan to stay with me. So this was a very, very big deal. College admissions are a big deal and here I was being trusted to participate. Do you remember when the Grinch's heart suddenly grows bigger and bigger? Well, that's how I felt.
So L4 and I spent the day working on her essays, trying to capture on paper just the right words to make clear why any college — every college — should open its arms to L4. Later that night, after we sent the draft off to L4's mom, I got a reply. She said she had cried reading the essay, that somehow it reflected exactly who L4 was. For just a moment, I was let into the world that Nice Aunts see but don't usually get to participate in. I was made Aunt Plus that night. Which, as it turns out, is even better than Nice Aunt.
So I am P. I have nieces E, L4, L5 and A. Their moms are L1, L2, L3 and my sister-in-law P. This one is easy: LEAP. And that's what it all makes me want to do some days. I've always wished I had my own E, L, or A. But since I don't, I am really glad I have LEAP around. And I hope they know my door is always open to them. At any time of the night. Or even early morning.