“You know I can do it,” I grumble playfully.
She touches my cheek, her hands warm and familiar.“I know.But you go sit with Dad and Rocco outside.I'll bring it out.”
“Uncle B, will you play with me?”Aria puts her lollipop down and tugs at my hand, her small fingers curling around mine.
“Sure.What are we playing?Not Barbies again.I’m Barbie-d out.”
She giggles.“Okay.What about the swing?”
“I can do that.”I grin.
We head outside, the screen door slamming behind us.She tears off ahead of me, down the back steps, and straight to the swing.I shake Dad’s hand on the way through.He’s sitting back in a folding chair, a beer in hand.
“Hey, Dad.How’s it going?”
“Good.How are you feeling?”he asks, peering at me over his glasses.
“Tired, but good.Busy day.I'll be back, playing with Aria for a bit.Give me a yell when dinner’s ready.”
“Okay, will do.”
I push her on the swing carefully, trying not to send her too high.Every time I give her a push, my niece in her glittery tutu dress goes flying, her brown hair whipping around her face.She squeals with laughter, and I get caught up in the moment, forgetting everything else.
My sister and her husband have been trying for a second kid, but no luck so far.I don't ask.I just soak up every moment I can with Aria, knowing how precious it all is.
“Dinner's ready,” my sister calls from the patio.
“All right, dinnertime,” I say to Aria.
“Just a little more,” she begs, flashing me those puppy-dog eyes.
“Okay, five more pushes.That's it,” I say and hold up my hand.
She smiles, and I swear it lights up the entire sky.This little girl has my whole heart.I push her five more times, super slowly.
“Come on.I’m hungry.Aren’t you?”I ask.
“A little.”
“Come on then.I'll give you a piggyback ride.”
I scoop her up and carry her over to the outdoor table, lowering her into a chair.My sister has already plated her food: nuggets of barbecue chicken, a scoop of pasta salad, and buttered bread.The rest is spread out in the middle so we can help ourselves.
Mom and Dad sit next to each other, like always.Mom still fusses over Dad, brushing his shoulder, checking he’s got everything he needs.It's so sweet, it’s almost painful.
Dad puts a hand on her arm and looks up at her.“I’m good.Sit down and eat.”
“I know, I know,” she whispers back, smiling like they’re sharing some old joke.
I look away, serving up some food onto my plate, feeling that familiar tug, the one that says,One day, maybe when I’m chief.
“You ready for tomorrow, son?”Dad asks, reaching for the tongs.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I answer with a shrug.
“Did they tell you a name yet?”
“No, no idea.”
