365 Days Of Love. Day 16

Day one of what has become known as the love blog started like this,

“I believe I’ve had the most incredible people in my life…”

As I’ve tapped my tiny keys on my macbook air since that day, I’ve been repeatedly reminded of that exact sentiment.

Last weekend, I was in Minneapolis for my friend, Brittany’s bachelorette party. Knowing that my trips (near) home are infrequent, I mentioned to my aunt, who lives outside of the twin cities, that I would be in the area. I asked if she, my uncle, and their 3 kids could meet at the Mall of America for lunch because I knew the girls and I would be doing some pre-festivity shopping during the day. When I extended the invitation, I half-expected a declination only because I have three very active cousins who generally fill up my aunt and uncle’s weekends with social or sports activities. However, as soon as the invite was offered, my aunt accepted and made reservations at Dick’s Last Resort, a fun mall restaurant, shortly thereafter.

Even before flying into the MSP airport, I felt grateful. Grateful that I would get to spend time with friends, grateful that my aunt and uncle agreed to drive 45 minutes to meet me for an hour lunch, grateful that I had a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of teaching on the border.

Saturday morning mall shopping commenced and shortly thereafter, I started my maze-like hike to the 4^th floor restaurant my aunt made reservations at. In perfect Natalie style, I successfully meandered from the 1^st to the 3^rd floor, but couldn’t locate the escalator to the 4^th. Instead of shimming up mall poles like Mulan, I called my aunt for her insight on the locale of the 3^rd floor ascending escalator. As she directed me, I could sense urgency in her voice, which made me flustered. I thought for sure my inadequate sense of mall directions would make us miss our reservation.

Soon, though, I learned the urgency in her voice was excitement and not just excitement to see me.

I made my way to the 4^th floor and cruised around in my best Olympic speedwalking attempt to find Dick’s. As I turned the corner to the brightly colored dining establishment, my 5-year old cousin Zoe ran up to me. I bent down to hug her and looked up to see my aunt looming over the two of us with the hugest smile on her face. She helped me up, hugged me, and as she pointed to the restaurant entrance, said,

“We brought some guests.”

I’m certain an invisible hand painted a question mark in the silenced air between us. As I followed my aunt’s finger to the very tip, I strained my eyes to see the “guests” that would be joining us for lunch.

My mom, my sister-in-law, my nephew, my grandma, my sister, my brother in-law, and my other nephew were all standing at the entrance of the restaurant. They drove hours (some 5, some 3) to have lunch with me for one hour. My heart sped and slowed in unpatterned beats, overwhelmed with the excitement of seeing my family. Additionally, though, my heartstrings pulled at every bit of my being. I didn’t deserve the hour lunch with my family. I didn’t deserve the hours in the car my family spent to see me, I didn’t deserve the smiles from my sweet nephews, the hugs from my cousins, the conversations with my sisters, grandma, mom, brother in law, uncle, and aunt.

I got them, though.

My family taught me that love is time. I’m beyond grateful for their time, the time they sacrificed to spend a blessed 60 minutes with me.