Today I found out about my nephew.
He is already a month ahead of me in our game
To understand each other and
I will probably never catch him.

My sister was breathless with fear and pride
When she told me.
It’s been some week, she said.
Walking down a slushy street in the
Cold Chicago winter, considering my uncle-ness,
I noted that the baby would be born in August,
Most probably in Austin, Texas,
Quite possibly with wisteria and honeysuckle in the air.

The blood, sweat, stink, and scream
Will not start for another 8 months.
Strange to think about another creature
Taking over your body, my sister said.
Strange to think that this new one,
Blood-born and burnt into my breast already,
Will be silent all that time.
I will not speak to him by phone, I’ll say,
But wait until the day he drinks his first breath
And pipes into the air his original cry.

Nephew, I’ll reply, if we get a moment alone,
You may be a niece, and either way,
You can count on me like
You can count on no one.

What else can you say to a child on its first day?
There is no love without hurt will have to wait
Til the first time the child, no longer young,
Turns to me and says:
Uncle, I did not know it would be this way.

And in that moment, wherever I am,
Quite possibly some place I’ve never been,
I’ll tell this fresh blossom on my family’s tree
What I tell myself:

Nephew dear, or niece as it may be,
There’s nothing to fear.
Our team is strong.
You belong here.