Happy for you…

But if I didn’t jump up and down at your news there is a reason why. 

One of my friends told me that she is going to be an aunt early next year. Of course I am thrilled for her. But it still hurts me. See, I have two nephews. They are twelve and thirteen. And I have not seen them since the oldest was 15 months old. It hurts. I was all of eleven when my oldest sister and her husband divorced. And that’s how long it has been since I’ve seen either of the boys. At first we had limited contact…as in their paternal grandparents would email us pictures and we would send gifts through them…but even that faded very quickly. And so it is that when my friend told me she is going to be an aunt that I was both excited for her and sad that I don’t have contact with my nephews.

I don’t know why it is so easy to hear that my friends are expecting their own children and/or to hear them call me “auntie” to their children, but somehow hearing this other news was so much harder. Maybe it’s because I don’t have children of my own and I’m not in a place to have children of my own right now so it’s easy to be happy for my friends who are having children. And don’t get me wrong, I am honestly happy for my friend who is going to get to be an aunt. There is nothing more fun than getting to spoil a child.

Maybe it really is because lately, for some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about the boys. I’ve been wishing that there was some way for me to get in contact with them. And yet, what good would that contact do them? It’s not like I can introduce their mother back into their lives…still, for my own sake, I wish that I at least knew where they were living…and that they were okay. And happy. I guess I’ll just keep praying for them. And I’ll continue to be happy for my friends and wish that I was able to be an Auntie to my nephews.

~The Countess~


About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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