The First Language of Love

I had the wonderful opportunity to spend the weekend with two of my sisters and their beautiful baby boys. For the past five months I have adored my new role as "Auntie". I am very close to my sisters. As Amanda once put it, "We're much more than siblings. We're a pack." So naturally, I feel very close to their sons.

I get to see Daegan, Leslee's son, almost every day. I know him very well. I can tell without seeing his face whether he is telling a story or his babbling talk has turned to complaint and will soon turn to crying. I know how to hold him so he will fall asleep, despite his best efforts to stay awake. My sister and I agree though that the best thing in the world is the way he grins at you when you first show up to pick him up from daycare or when he sees you coming to pick him up from his nap. He can go from screaming to smiling just at the sight of your face. His Aunt Tricia was like this as a baby. Saturday, I looked down at him grinning in his playpen and said, "Do you know you can make a person feel like the most special person in the world?" His mom laughed and said, "I know. It's like you are just who he was hoping to see." How can someone so little, unable to speak make me feel so loved?

I do not get to see his cousin James who lives in Chicago as often, and I find that he has always changed quite a bit between visits, no matter how regular those visits are. I often find myself confused at what this tiny little person is wanting from me. It's hard to love him so much and not know what he's wanting. I often wonder if he knows who I am or how much I already love him. He's developed the best way of answering my unspoken questions. He grabs my face with both his tiny little hands to pull my face to his for a big, open-mouthed kiss. I don't know that that kind of love will ever need words.