Cousin's baby shower.
At 37, Jennifer is the oldest cousin on my mom's side; I'm the youngest at 22. Growing up, she called us "bookends" and always went out of her way to take an interest in me. I felt she wanted to have genuine conversations with me, not that I'm-talking-to-you-to-say-funny-things-for-the-benefit-of-the-other-grownups-in-the-room thing that I was often subjected to as the baby of the family. She and her husband have wanted kids for a long time, but she was stuck kicking thyroid cancer's ass for a few years and only recently was deemed healthy enough to get pregnant.
While I usually can't suffer the cooing over all things TINY and PRECIOUS that goes on at these types of things, this was a completely tolerable baby shower. Forgoing shower games, the host (also my cousin) printed images of cartoon characters from Jennifer's youth onto iron-on decals and we transferred the images onto 30 cotton onesies. There were fabric markers to sign or write messages on them.
I wonder if I'm the only one at events like these, who in the midst of the frenetic anticipation and excitement of something so wonderful and important, thinks, "God, I hope nothing goes wrong" - some irrational superstitious part of me gets nervous when things seem too good to be true.
So, hey, kiddo. There's a whole hell of a lot of us out here where it's cold and bright and loud - and we're rooting for you. See you in February.
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