To the Aunties

On being an aunt and a niece

As giggles erupted from her belly at the pure joy of watching her uncle mimic her attempt to blow bubbles, I too felt guttural laughs escape me. Pete and I were sitting on the back porch with his almost 2-year old niece as the sun was beginning to set. The shaded deck was a welcome respite from the scorching 80-degree Atlanta sun we’d walked around in earlier that day. It was our last evening there and I had just remembered the leftover bubble wands we’d saved for her from my friend’s wedding the weekend prior.

I have no idea how much time we spent out there—It could’ve been five minutes or twenty—as we blew bubbles and she switched between chasing them and blowing them herself.

I felt the urge to grab a camera to capture the moment, but both our phones were inside. Somehow it made the memory all the more beautiful, for I was completely present. No phone camera to interrupt. Just the three of us, two miniature bubble wands, and one fond memory.

This past week I had the pleasure of spending seven days with my partner’s sister’s family in Atlanta. We hadn’t seen them since December when his niece had recently turned one and started walking.

Having been around dozens of young children by now, I knew what to expect from hanging out with a toddler, but this was the first time I spent an extended period with one, meaning I really got to lean into the auntie role. 

Spending a week at the same house as an almost two year old meant that we got to be part of her daily routine. From her morning breakfast to her midday nap to her pre-bedtime energy boost, we were a part of her entire day.

It was so much fun seeing the world through her toddler eyes. From the pumpkin patches to the zoo, from coloring to playing in a fort made of boxes, to her hide-and-seek that consisted simply of “two, five, ten,” I enjoyed every minute of it.

As the days went by, I found myself reflecting on my relationship with my own aunts. Growing up in Arizona, we were far away from any family. Fortunately my mom’s two younger sisters (by 8 and 12 years!) were childless at the time and had the flexibility to come visit us often. They’ve been constants in my life since I was little age, one of them even flying there for my birth. 

Throughout my adolescent years, they took my brother and me to the zoo, to the movies (Air Bud, anyone?), played dress up and painted my nails. My Aunt Michelle in particular even tie-dyed t-shirts with us. 

I was a preteen when my Aunt Michelle got married. She and my uncle were getting married on my birthday, and sensing the impact that would have on me she chose to dedicate a song to me that evening. (It was Britney Spears, naturally.) It meant the world to me then and it still means the world to me now.

I sensed from a young age that having so many aunts (three on my mom’s side and one on my dad’s), particularly ones who didn’t have kids of their own at the time, was a special experience. I didn’t exactly know why at the time, but I looked up to them. Big time.

To me, they were always the “cool aunts.” Built-in role models.

While texting my mom about our visit this past week, she sent the message: “It’s good for kids to see examples in addition to their parents 😊”

That’s when something clicked in me. I had been looking forward to our visit for months, anxiously awaiting my baby fix. I hadn’t considered the impact it would have on her—even at 2 years old, despite not being able to retain any conscious memories, the subconscious is forming. She knows who we are and was sad to see us leave. Her parents commented that she is often sad for a day or two after company leaves because of the excitement and happiness they bring her. Those early memories are crucial to the building blocks of life and I know from experience the impact they have on you is priceless.

Reflecting on this—being on the aunt end of the equation rather than the niece—made me all the more grateful for my aunts. 

I devastatingly lost my Aunt Michelle to leukemia in January 2023, something I’ll never get over. It wasn’t until she got sick that I truly realized the impact she had on me. While still close, we didn’t talk that often, mostly reserving that for family get-togethers with some texting and birthday phone calls in between. But I knew she was always there, just a text or a phone call away should I need to ask her what do with a certain CSA vegetable or recommend a book to her.

Nearly two years later and I’m still caught off guard by the grief waves that hit me when something reminds me of her. She spent her later years tending her own vegetable garden in Southern Oregon, so naturally I felt her there with me when I volunteered at a farm the other week. Another grief wave hit me full force last night as we talked with Pete’s sister and brother-in-law about how special it was to have that time with his niece.

I know my Aunt Michelle would be proud to see me being an aunt now. It’s a role I don’t take lightly.

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To the aunties who don’t yet have kids
To the aunties who are childfree by choice
To the aunties who are also moms
To the aunties who so badly wanted to be moms but life had other plans for them
To the aunties who are family not by blood, but by love
To the aunties who treat their nieces and nephews as if they were their own
To the aunties who left us too soon
To the aunties who left marks on our soul
I see you
And I thank you for being there for us all 💖

My Aunt Michelle with my brother and me, rocking our homemade tie-dye.

My Grandma & Aunt Michelle taking me roller-skating.

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