Thank you all for your well wishes today and yesterday. I am feeling better!

Our bout with stomach flu was fast and furious. It didn’t last too long. I won’t go into the details because my stomach is still a little weak. I’m trying to move on as I nurse my gingerale.

Despite our stomach problems, we have a houseful of fascinating eats here. My almost-18 year old niece has been here for the past three days. Before the stomach flu hit, I took her grocery shopping with us at Costco and we ended up with all sorts of interesting treats. Toquitos for instance. Who would have thought to buy them and yet, my kids really like them. She also picked out those sour-movie candies (can’t remember the name) for our movie night last night. Not bad. Absolutely addicting. As much as I enjoyed all of her grocery picks, I sent her home with lots of the leftover junk food tonight when we said good-bye.

I was 19 years old when my niece entered the world. I had just started dating my husband. She is not a blood relative, but my niece through my husband. Still, we are connected as strongly as if we were blood relatives. Just yesterday, it seems, she was four years old calling me and blabbing away on the phone aimlessly with little attention to what I was saying on the other end. I have a photo of her and I on her grandma’s bed: me sitting Indian style in my nightgown, and she jumping away in her little nightgown. Many wonderful things have come to me from connecting with my husband’s family, but none more magnificent than having nieces and nephews in my life before my own children. There are no words to describe what these bonds have meant to me.

K, the niece that was visiting this week, has been having a rough few years due to her parent’s divorce. I am so proud of who she is fighting to be that I have tears in my eyes right now. I can still feel the child that she was on my lap; I can hear her sweet voice on the phone. There has always been an incredible freshness to her. For a very long time, she seemed oblivious to anything negative in the world.

K is very much a teenager. She talks on her cell-phone way too much for my taste. She is quieter now and is carrying more weight on her shoulders than she did as a girl. The trauma of the past few years have taken a toll. But when I listen to her talk when she is lit up, I am amazed. While my brain has become dull and fuzzy, she’s sharp as a tack-and thoughtful and wise, and kind-hearted. And the little girl that never saw any of the hardness around her is still alive in her.

An hour before she left us tonight, she asked me to French braid her hair. This has been a tradition with us. My nieces on my husband’s side of the family as children always wanted me to French braid their hair. They are all teenagers now and still ask me to do this for them. Each time they ask it is so touching to me. I awkwardly try to live up to their expectations. I am an improbable hair stylist. When they wwere children my skills were impressive, butnow I am afraid they will see me for what I am–just adequate as a French braider. No magical powers.

Tonight we sat in a line–me braiding K’s har and K braiding Rachel’s hair. K has two brothers. When I was pregnant with Rachel she told me she was hoping it was a girl so she could French braid her hair.

K, I don’t think you know about this blog, but if you should happen across it one day, I want you to know that I love you. I love the person that you were. And the person that you will struggle to become in the next years. I love that despite all that you have been through there is a part of you that remains fresh. You are loyal and wise and generously loving. You’ve got to learn when to get off the phone, but I love you. You have blown me away these past two years with your ability to express your feelings about the pain that you sometimes feel. That gift will pull you through if you let it.

I love that you still love me.

And I hope you have a daughter someday so I can French braid her hair. Or if my magical powers cease to amaze, I can at the very least sit in my rocking chair and watch Rachel do it.

And if you have a son….we’ll either have a go at braiding his hair or get creative.

xo