A Boy & His Na-Na

Something that slapped my perspective back into (some kind of) focus was when my nephew came into my bedroom early last Saturday morning.  I heard my door open and sensed him standing at the edge of my bed, where I was burrowed under a mountain of blankets.  I peeked at the clock and saw my alarm wasn't to go off for 45 more minutes.  Instead of getting out of bed, I motioned for him to climb in with me and I'll be damned, he did.
He tucked his little 4 year old self with me into the cave of pillows I had created and fell right back asleep.  His quiet little snores lulled me back to sleep as well, and when my alarm went off he didn't budge.  I got up but he kept on snoring so I let him be.

One of Nico's Christmas gifts to me this year.

How can you not be reminded that there is no secret to life or happiness, it just is, when you look down at the little one tucked safely under the covers next to you?  Everything else seems almost painfully insignificant when you look down at that little one who has latched onto your heart with a death grip, realizing he looks up to you as his Na-Na, his aunt that will always love him and protect him.  He is sleeping in your arms because he trusts you, he knows you will never hurt him, that, in essence, you will always be there.  

Whenever I dare to let myself think that I might not ever actually get the chance to have my own children, I quickly divert my thoughts to Nico, my crazy, energy-charged, blue-eyed "baby."  (I know, I know, he's not a baby anymore - he reminds me all the time.)  My love for this little boy transcends everything I thought I knew.  The other day I remarked to my mother, "I never knew I could love something as much I love that little stinker.  It blows my mind sometimes."

People might think it's strange, and if they do, I feel sorry for them and hope that one day they experience a relationship like the one I have with Nico.
"Wait, your nephew's separation anxiety is just as bad with you as it is with his own parents?"
Sometimes, yes, like when he needs "one more huggie" 60 times  when I'm about to leave for work or going out with friends.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.