As a stepdaughter, only child, and unmarried woman, I am familiar with the concept that you don’t have to be blood-related to be family. I have “adopted” (not really) family members of all kinds – siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews. A former work colleague uses the term “nieces/nephews-in-love”, which I adore, and have subsequently stolen.
Despite my aunt-in-love status, I am always careful not to insist on the term as part of my name – many of the kiddos have biological aunts whom I do not wish to offend (especially if in some cases I see the child more frequently than the biological aunts), and I am just happy when they know my name. There are cases in which “Aunt” is assumed more readily and obviously – my BFF’s son uses it as manipulation, pulling it out only when he wants something from me (like the ice bucket challenge…), and my godson, who is not yet old enough to call me anything in particular, will obviously refer to me as Aunt. But otherwise… I’m cool with whatever the parents and kids are comfortable with.
Of all my nieces/nephews-in-love, the oldest is Madeline, who is the older of the two girls I visited in Kenya. For most of their lives, I have simply been “Susie” – I started whispering my name to Madeline when she was still in utero and once they moved to Birmingham I found great joy in toddler-Madeline streaking across the resident lounge into my arms while squealing my name. Annabelle didn’t get to know me in her early years like Madeline did, but thanks to a few key visits and phone calls, we were able to create a bond as well. As they got older, they had begun to refer to me as “Aunt” here and there, but for all our time together, we had never been in a position where the girls had to give me a label in order to introduce me to someone.
In Kenya, however, where everyone knows everyone, it was different – I was clearly not their mother, and while we are both brunettes with brown eyes, no one has ever really mistaken us for sisters, but the girls both hugged me freely and obeyed me… who was I? The girls still mostly call me “Susie” when seeking my attention or referring to me in conversation, so I didn’t want to step on any toes by insisting on something they weren’t comfortable with (though I knew their parents wouldn’t care).
It was Madeline who settled it – I had walked up to her and her friend while they were sitting on the playground reading, and after a bit of conversation, her friend asked who I was. “Oh!” said Madeline. “This is our aunt, Susie.” She didn’t pause to think about it. It was so clearly the obvious answer to her that I will confess I had to hold back some tears.
I am so grateful to have friends in my life who open not just their homes, but their hearts and their families to me. More than once I have found myself at a friend’s house and incorporated in the daily routine – helping with meals, changing diapers, interpreting mealtime whining/sign language, brushing teeth, reading stories, snuggling at bedtime with precious children who trust me because their parents do. It might seem like a small thing, or like I am just being a helpful house guest, but for me, that is what family looks like – small, ordinary moments. And I am grateful to be extended an invitation to be a part of that.
Quote for the day:
“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.” – Richard Bach