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Heather takes her own
measurements, which apparently
must tally. Why not?
I lead the way to the living
room, where the setting sun
paints spectacular colors
on the west-facing window.
Hunter’s awake, waving
his chubby fists at whatever
real or imagined air fairies
have caught his eye.
When he sees me, he smiles
his great, toothless smile.
“Hey, Sweetie,” I croon.
“Meet your Auntie Leigh
and your…” [Uncle Heather].
The rest of my sentence sticks
around that idea. It takes all
my willpower (and you know
how much of that there is)
not to laugh out loud.
Heather shoots me a look
laced with understanding
as Leigh picks up Hunter.
She gives him a big kiss,
folds him into her arms
like she used to caress Jake
when he was a baby. Oh, Heather.
Isn’t he adorable? she asks.
Heather gives Hunter a top
