My youngest big aunt,

Little me used to watch you religiously
Eagerly observing the glimpse of a world I was never at home in, filled with preening and shopping and mirrors and jewelry, and singing on a stage without a visible hint of nerves
I used to desperately want to be a part of your mysterious feminine rituals
And I always failed horribly at it, never quite copying things the right way
You made it look so easy
Painting your face as carefully as dad once painted you
A pluck (or two, or three)
A brush stroke
A spritz of florals and musk
A swipe of browns and reds
A carefully practiced smile, followed by a quick swipe of the teeth

You were the place of warm meals and warm spa days and warm hugs
The safe house without the cigarette smoke
The home with the guest room, where I happily stayed as placeholder for the daughters you wanted so badly (and eventually, thankfully, got)
The kitchen with soup for lunch in lieu of the dry bread that I (until then) feared was inextricably linked to that meal
The bath tub with unlimited bubbles where I would gleefully spend hours pretending to be a mermaid, until you pulled me out and tutted “kripoet” at my wrinkly little fingers
And the shower with so many soaps that 5-year-old me got overwhelmed with decision fatigue

(sorry about that time I used your boyfriend’s body wash and ended up smelling like a 30-year-old man; you asked me why I used men’s soap and I was so ashamed that I made the wrong choice that I insisted I didn’t, even though I very clearly smelled like a manly forest cabin)

You taught me how to dance with flowers and grass skirts,
and without moving anything but my hips and feet
You told me about desirable men (rich)
And the ones to steer away from (Italian)
You always wished for me to find the former, with a big helping of good health
(and the happiness that would surely follow along with them)

I don’t think I followed your advice all that well (except for the Italian part – accidentally, I might add), and you never really got to meet the person that little girl became
But I did eventually find the happiness you wished for me
You taught me what it’s like to be your specific brand of woman
(being your bridesmaid was probably the closest I’ll ever get to catching that feeling)
And even if I’m probably not quite what you hoped for, thank you for the loving wishes all the same

I hope you found your own happiness
And I’m sorry you had to leave it behind so soon

Love,
Your biggest little niece