the smallest Small: "You're my best auntie"

Just when I thought summer would go on and on, I woke up to a genuinely cold morning. The mornings and evenings have taken on a chilled edge, slowly enforcing a new normal. Fog is beginning to settle down low between the branches--one of my favorite parts of fall. With a less aggressive heat, the sun still shines through the trees onto yellowed leaves that flutter down aimlessly and create their own beautiful. Some leaves are more ready than others as they lead the way in welcoming the next season.

Soon we'll be waking up to grass that's white with cold; but not yet. Unlike summer's rapid entrance, fall comes slowly with one new gift at a time. I think fall likes to try sneaking in to see how much we're paying attention to the details of each day. Me? Well, I certainly noticed those leaves on the road that picked up wind again as I drove by. And I can't wait to see every road decorated with color.

There's some irony in fall; leaves fade and die, but they do it beautifully. Their departing makes way for the new leaves to make a debut next spring. Maybe I am being "too Christian" by making a simplistic, seasonal thing into something spiritual, but maybe our lives would be better if we were ok with just being a leaf in life. It's ok to do the quiet, "unimportant," every-day things and find contentment in just that. God doesn't call everyone to be a hero in the loud sense, but we can all be heroes in exactly where we are. We can silently keep loving and living in such a way to lead up to a beautiful end that will make way for those after us.

At my present stage in life I'm still working on being a quiet hero--and on learning to just be a hero at all. Right now one of my most distinct roles is being an aunt to 16 wonders whom I call "my babies." Yes, even the 12 year-old.
Being relatively close in age to my nieces and nephews has really helped me create unique bonds and friendships with them. There are connections that I never want to lose because I treasure our closeness and playfulness so dearly. I want to be the person that each of them looks up to and can call upon for the rest of life. I want to be more than an aunt; I want to be a friend.

But, like a parent, I make a lot of mistakes as an aunt. I fail to love them enough, I don't sacrifice enough to be with them, and I'm not always the best person to imitate. I'm pretty sure that each of them have taught me more about life and gentleness than I could ever teach them, too.
I am in love with the way each of them has enhanced my life, and sometimes every and any negative part is washed away all at once when one of them says, "you're my best auntie" as a reminder that I'm still doing something right.