About a month before Jax was born in 2006, I moved to Statesboro so that I could be close to him. I was there when his mama went into labor and nagged her to go to the hospital, despite her insistence on finishing work (we Pfeffer girls are pretty passionate about our work). I sat, with bated breath, in the waiting room. The anticipation of meeting my nephew, whom I was already so in love with, was too great to focus on the card games that we were trying to distract ourselves with. My eyes welled up with happy tears when the phone call came that he was finally here in this world. I waited (not so patiently) in the delivery room, for the nurses to bring in my sweet boy, and when I couldn't wait any longer, I ventured down the hall to catch my first glimpse of him.
I stared through the large window at him - beautiful and healthy and strong. He kicked his legs and spun himself around in circles in the little crib.
When he came home, I'd bartend at night and stay with him during the day while his parents were at work. We'd take long walks around the neighborhood and I'd tell him about all of the things that were happening around us and introduce him to the people we met along the way. There was a short stretch of time where a tiny pit bull puppy and his mama would join us on our walk. Jax would giggle and squeal when the puppy licked his toes.
I moved back to New York when Jax was eight months old, but continued to visit often. After spending every day with him, even a few weeks without seeing him was difficult. On one visit, he was obsessed with "hopilays" and on the next, he could tell me in full sentences about Chinooks and Blackhawks. It broke my heart when he actually started saying "helicopter."
And now he is six.
He reads and writes and corrects my pronunciation of all of the dinosaur names in his dino-encyclopedia. He tells me jokes and climbs trees and scored THREE goals at the last soccer game I attended (and then proceeded to run off the field and hug me). He insists that I play him in Wii Nintendo, and won't let me stop playing even though I suck at it (Super Mario 3, original Nintendo, please!).
I can't believe that it's been six years since I first met him.
And as much as I'd love to return to the days of the "hopilay,"
I couldn't be prouder of my nephew - the sweetest, smartest, most handsome six year old that I know.
