Owen.

I recently visited my homeland Utah, USA. 

I spent two weeks with my family.

We hiked, we played, we ate.

It was jam packed full of fun with my favorite people.

Finally spending time with them after being away for six months

gave me all sorts feels and thoughts, realizations and lessons. 

It was rejuvenating and inspiring.

& those two things were what I needed. 

I haven't been able to write in such a long time. 

I mean, I can write, but usually when I write, the words come easily and smoothly. 

Lately, I've felt so uninspired. 

It's like someone juiced me, not leaving a single drop of creativity behind.

I've not only been lacking creativity, but desire to write as well.

I used to have so much inside me I wanted to say, but lately I've had nothing.

Maybe I wrote when I needed it, and now I have a lot more figured out,

And I just don't need it to be me anymore…

During my visit, I got to hang out with my favorite six-year-old. 

We've been close since his second day on earth.

He's one of my very best friends.

He had grown so much since the last time I had seen him, in every way.

And it broke my heart a bit, that I hadn't been there to see it, like I was his first 5 years of life.

It got me thinking about when I met him, when he first started saying 'clock' and would point to every clock he saw, the Sunday evenings he'd dance around the room after dinner, our trips to the aquarium.

And it got me thinking about why i love that kid so much.

So story time, guys...

Once I was a sad little teenager, a week shy of twenty.

I seemed to have next to nothing figured out.

I was more lost than I was anything else.

I had just finished the ASL interpreting program at the community college.

But truth was, I didn’t want it to end.

I had known for quite some time that I didn’t want to pursue it as a career,

but I was too embarrassed to quit, as I had no other career or schooling I wanted to pursue.

So, now would be the time I’d quit; the time people would be expecting me to really start…

Spiritually, I didn’t know what I believed and I wasn’t sure I really cared to figure it out.

I had always believed in God, but I didn’t understand what that meant;

that God is real and He created me.

I loathed my body and treated it terribly.

My morning routine wasn’t complete unless I had looked at myself in my full-length mirror and made a mental list of all the flaws I could see.

Rarely was the list short.

I had very few friends; acquaintances yes, but real true friends? not really.

But that was my doing.

I found my identity in my boyfriend at the time.

And basically, it wasn’t healthy.

We had dated for over a year, but the whole time I knew in my core that it wasn’t right.

Yet I didn’t care, because I had a boyfriend. 

I wasn’t alone.

Alone is a scary place to be when you don’t have a clue of who you are.

I guess he was my distraction;

my distraction from growing up, from making big decisions, from accepting that I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be.

At the time, my sweet sister was 9 months pregnant with her first baby, who would make me an aunt. 

She had called me as soon as she found out she was pregnant, and we danced squealed as we talked all about the angel to come. 

At 9 months, the baby hadn't come on its own, so she was set to be induced. 

My parents and I went to the hospital, hoping the labor would be short, and all would be healthy. 

We visited with her and her husband until it was time for her to push. 

Hours later, we saw loads of staff members running in and out of their room, so we inched closer towards the door, hoping to hear some sweet newborn baby cries. 

Finally, the door opened and two nurses walked out, wheeling a little babe in a cart next to them. 

My parents and I looked at each other... They didn't seem panicked... But why are they wheeling it away suddenly... Is everything okay... They weren't really rushing… Could you tell if it was a boy or girl? 

My sister's husband finally opened the door for us, and told us as my mom hugged him, "It's a boy". We entered the room, and saw my warrior of a sister.

 As I looked at her, exhausted and strong, tears filled my eyes. 

She did it. 

There was no denying that the feeling in that room, was love.

That sweet new little boy had a bit of lung trouble during his grand entrance and was kept an eye on in the Newborn ICU. 

I went the following day to f.i.n.a.l.l.y meet him. 

I remember washing my hands and arms, after entering the NICU, so excited my heart was going to burst. 

I walked down the hall until I got to his room, and there he was; Owen.

He was sleeping in his little bed, with little monitors on his sweet little cheeks. 

I just stared at his perfection, his unharmed heart, his dependent little soul. 

And I felt it; love. 

I loved that little boy. I loved that he was my nephew. I loved that I was his aunt. 

I loved that I would get to watch and help him grow. I loved that he was. 

I loved him just for existing. And nothing would ever change that.

In that moment I realized, if I had to define love, it was him. 

Swaddled up in a warm blanket; he was love.

I lived with my parents at the time, and my sister with her newly expanded family, lived just a few minutes from them. 

I made sure to visit every chance I could. 

I remember watching Owen for the first time as my sister rested. 

I held little O until my arm went numb, and even then I couldn’t put him down. 

I loved just staring at his dark head of hair, or feeling his tiny body expand as he inhaled. 

I was in awe of his every movement; his eyes looking about the room, his arms stretching above his head, or his little mouth opening wide for a yawn.

After understanding what I felt for Owen was love, I quickly realized 

what my boyfriend and I had wasn’t. 

Most importantly, what I felt for myself, definitely wasn’t love either. 

So I made some serious changes. 

I broke up with my boyfriend, for good. 

And I started a long process of learning to love myself.

It took about three and a half years of serious trying to figure out what it meant to love myself, until one day everything finally clicked.

 A lot of that process was documented on this little blog of mine, so I won’t go into too much detail...

But I learned to forgive; others, and myself- which is the hardest kind. 

I learned to let go of things that I had done, that I wished I hadn’t. 

I learned my body is an incredible gift. I learned to never talk crap on it, and treat with respect.

I learned to be brave and leave my comfort zone.

I learned that it’s okay to not like school, but to always be learning.

I learned that the way people talk about others is a direct reflection of how they feel about themselves.

 I learned what a true friend was, and how to be one myself. 

I learned that the only opinions of me that truly matter, are that of my own and God’s. Which brings me to my next point; I learned that God is real. 

I learned that He created everything and everything is valuable to Him, including me.

Throughout that process, I had plenty of setbacks; I’d care too much about what people thought of me. 

I’d stay in my comfort zone when I should have left it. 

I’d date the wrong type of guys, knowing full well they didn’t bring out the best in me.

I’d talk negatively about myself, to myself. 

I wouldn’t let God in.

And the list goes on...

But whenever I stumbled, there was always that little boy Owen to remind me what I was striving for.

I saw him often, almost every day.

 I’d be in awe of his accomplishments; rolling a ball, standing for a few seconds, or clapping his hands.

He learned to say "clock", "ball", and "hoop" while I learned how to use the word "no". 

He learned to walk, while I learned to stand up for myself. 

He learned how to eat solid food, while I learned how to eat the best kinds of foods for my body.

He was a constant reminder of what life was all about; love. 

I saw how many people truly loved him, and rooted for him. I realized that many people love me, and root for me too. 

I realized the way my sister cared for him, is the way my mom cared for me. 

I realized I mattered too, simply because I was born. 

And I should live knowing that I matter; with purpose and intent.

As time went on, he grew and so did I.

When he was about 3 and a half years old, I felt like I had made it; I had finally arrived in myself.

 I knew who I was and what I wanted.

Most importantly, I loved myself.

I felt solid & free.

Shortly after this, I met Michael. 

Soon enough, we were making wedding plans…

I loved him and he loved me. And I knew exactly what that meant.

Marriage marked an end of an era for me, 

but it meant the start of something extraordinary.

It was all wonderful & exciting, but bittersweet as well.

Marriage meant moving an hour away from the sweetest little being.

It meant going from seeing him nearly every day,

to a few times a month.

But it was fitting, in a way…

Owen was born with purpose, as we all are, 

and I believe one reason was to teach me, and help me become who I was meant to be.

As soon as I became that person, it was time for me to move to the next stage of life;

the next process of growth and progress. 

Moving from him was one of the hardest things I've done,

And it's still hard, but how can I complain...

I got to spend 4 years with that kid, how fortunate am I.

I was Skyping Owen when I told him I was coming back to Utah for a visit. 

He instantly started screaming and it seemed his body was frozen and dancing all at once. 

That’s about how I felt about knowing I was going to get to see him, too.

When I arrived at the airport, I walked out of the terminal to find a blonde haired boy, all dressed up, holding flowers and a Kit Kat bar for his aunt, up way past his bedtime.

After not seeing him for six months, I couldn’t get to him fast enough.

He had made a ‘trail’ in my parents house, marked with his handmade cards for me,

leading to my bedroom, where I found glow sticks taped to the walls that spelled out “Welcome to the USA”.

It was the cutest thing.

As my time in Utah went on, I was so impressed by him. 

We went on a five mile hike, climbing over rocks and boulders, and he did it, 

without complaining one time.

 He was such a champ. 

I was impressed with how protective he is of his little brother. 

Nobody will mess with him under Owen’s watch. 

He’s so smart and so inquisitive. 

He told me about different kind of sharks and what they look like and if they’d attack me while I was at the beach. 

He told me a certain kind of shark (whose name I can’t remember) comes very close to shore, 

so I need to be careful at my island.

Since i’ve left Utah, he started first grade. My sister posted a picture of him on his first day, with his big tooth-missing grin. 

I felt so proud of him, staring at that picture.

I realized no matter where we are in the world, no matter how old we get, no matter how things change, we’ll always love each other.

We’ll always be best friends.

And when we do get to see each other, it makes every moment that much sweeter. 

I’m so grateful he’s my nephew. 

I’m so grateful I got to learn from that boy nearly every day for the first four years of his life.

He taught me who I needed to be.

He unknowingly is a reminder of where I've been, and keeps me focused on what matters;

love.

He’s done more for me than he’ll probably ever know.

What a gift I have been given, to even know him.

Love you, O.