Dear Boys: You are not allowed to grow up. Love, Auntie
Lately I feel like a very “seasoned” auntie, which is just another way to say I’m old. There are a handful of milestones happening this month which have me wanting to have a sit down with all my nephews regarding this growing up thing. Amadeus, my oldest childhood friend - and “brother” Darrell’s son - graduated high school in Guam recently. Maxwell - my guy BFF Andrew’s 13-year-old-son - is getting his first suit and my nephews, Cole and Jack, have merged into one room with bunk beds. Who gave all these boys permission to grow up?
There are moments that happen year-round that we cherish as aunties; seeing Jack write his spelling words out or when Cole says my name in a way only he says it. You know they are growing when they transition from a nursery into a big boy room or start texting girls. Life happens, kids grow and things change. Yeah, yeah I get it; I just didn’t think this whole growing up from boys to men thing would tug at my heart so much.
One of my greatest joys the past few years has been when Maxwell stops by unannounced after school at random, to say hello en route to hanging out with his buddy Luke who lives down the street. It’s simply the best. He rolls in on his bicycle or skateboard and opens the screen door “Hey Stace, what’s up?” I love that he doesn’t really think I might be busy and if I am, I drop everything (yes, even the BlackBerry) to be present in the moment.
We just sit together, have a snack and chat it up for a bit. There isn’t a particular focus of our conversation; sometimes it’s about art and working in the studio or we chat about my boyfriend Kris' latest vintage surfboard find. Sometimes there’s silence when we sit together and that’s really nice, too. There’s never any planning or coordinating ahead of time, no permission slip or call to dad - just Maxwell and me doing our thing. It’s priceless, and I know it.
I am acutely aware that in an instant these moments will soon be gone. Maxwell will be 17, then 24 and soon enough 32 years old; so, I just take it as it comes and appreciate every drop in with Maxwell, because secretly, I know these days are numbered. I have been in Maxwell’s life since he was a toddler and today he is a certified teenager. While I am in awe of the spectacular young man he has grown to be, I am holding on to his being a boy for as long as I can.
On those drop in visit days, without any warning or special transition, Maxwell says "Okay Stace, see you later." He heads out and he's off to be a teenager. I am always pleasantly surprised by one thing: no matter how rushed Maxwell is to take off, he gives me a hug goodbye. Always. When I say goodbye, I often think that if we lived in the South, we’d be sipping lemonade on the porch swing on days like this, without doubt. It’s that Norman Rockwell kind of moment.
Maxwell’s dad called me today to say he bought Maxwell his first suit for a bat mitzvah he has to attend - it’s a Calvin Klein. I can barely believe he agreed to wear a suit at all, but then Andrew told me Maxwell set very clear boundaries surrounding footwear: “Dad, don’t you dare buy me shoes, I’m wearing my blue suede Adidas, they’re dressy.”
That’s my boy.
Stacie Krajchir is the founder of The Bungalow PR and The See & Sprout Project.
Published: May 23, 2010