The Week of the Gentleman, Part Two.

Dear Joaquin,

The day I met you was one of the best days of my life. I remember when your mom told me she was pregnant. It was May 15th, the day before my seventeenth birthday. We were at Double Bluff Beach, knee-deep in the salty waters of Useless Bay, when my big sister told me she was having a baby. A baby? Awe overwhelmed me. A baby!

Next we went to Village Pizzeria where she filled in some of her closest friends. Joy was sweeping through this village! Phoebe told me she was going to tell Grandpa Gary that night and that Arwen and I were going, too. Period. I think she was a little nervous. She brought blackberry pie (his favorite) and served it with a side of, "I'm having a baby!" I stared wide-eyed at the whole thing. I couldn't imagine telling dad about a boy, let alone telling him he was going to be a grandpa, but he was thrilled. On that rare warm spring night, he hugged her and we all ate pie. 

Days turned into months. Your mom took a lot of naps and we wondered out loud if the crescent moon tattoo on her belly would ever wane back to normal. I'd go over after school and watch movies while your dad worked at a local restaurant. We'd eat ice cream and whatever else she was craving. I forgot that I wasn't pregnant and started eating for two. Your due date creeped closer and soon it was Pompa's 50th birthday. It was Friday the 13th. We had a big surprise party at Bayview Corner. When he walked in, everyone was holding up masks of his face that had been glued onto popsicle sticks. It was creepy. Phoebe wore a note around her neck that said, "Yes. Dec. 25th. A boy. We're not telling." It was a pretty funny way to answer all the questions all at once.

And then all at once, it was December 16th. There was a very big wind storm that day. My big final project for Contemporary World Problems was due that day. The power was out and I was sitting in Chemistry with Brooke. We were waiting for the word that we all got to go home. The phone rang and Mr.Westling told me to go to the office. It was happening. The baby was coming!

I hauled ass (sorry, I mean butt) to Arwen's house in Langley and we took off for the midwife's birthing house in Greenbank. Arwen realized that she had forgotten the Christmas cards that she was working on. She turned around. The baby was coming and she was turning around! I freaked out. Who do you think won? We paced and sat and paced some more. Well, I did. Arwen addressed envelopes. Grandpa Gary and Grandma Shannon were there, too. And then... "She wants her sisters." I freaked out again, pulled it together and walked in behind Arwen. 

Honna and Bryan were on either side of her. Your dad's glasses were fogged in all the commotion and he was struggling to see. You arrived seconds after we walked in. I lost my legs and fell to my knees. A baby! When they handed you to me, my life changed. I suddenly knew what unconditional love meant. I would stand in front of a train for you. I would walk to the ends of the earth for you. I would do anything for this little human.

I immediately sensed your brilliance. I knew that this world had better watch out and I was right. You are an amazing young man. Surrounded by a funny family and a gaggle of wacky women has given you so many facets to work with. You embrace everyone with compassion and respect. You, mister, are such a gentleman. You have wisdom far beyond your thirteen years and I have no doubt that you will be wildly successful at whatever you attempt. You already are. You're a great big brother to Ian, an awesome son, a fantastic student and from what I hear, a pretty amazing violinist. You also rock at being a nephew. I am an "Auntie" to dozens and I wear the title proudly, but I never forget who was first.  

Happy birthday, Joaquin. May your every wish come true!

Love, Auntie Sarah