Here is a story I wrote for my nephews:

For Josh and Kyle

The leaves on the maple trees, that line the parkway on my mother’s street, are turning hues of red, orange and yellow. They circle in the breeze sometimes landing on the ground and others fly away to unknown destinations. It’s both pleasing and messy, but not unusual for an autumn day in Canyon Country—a large city in the northern most part of Los Angeles County. The outside beauty is just a prelude to what is just behind the door. I can’t wait to see my mom and two nephews.

“Mom, I’m finally here.”

“How was the traffic, honey?’

“Awful!”

“Where are the boys?”

“Outside.” “Boys, Aunt Debby’s here!”

The boys knock me over as I ask, “where are my hugs and kisses?”

“Aunt Debby, do you want to play?”

“Maybe later. Right now I would like to talk to your grandmother and just watch my two favorite boys play.”

“Okay!” “Kyle, let’s go back outside.”

Mom and I chat occasionally, but mostly we watch and listen to my sister’s two young boys playing in the backyard. The backyard has a small patio—maybe eight by ten feet with a wood slat cover letting in rays of sunlight and warmth all day. On one side of the patio is a cement walkway and on the other side is a very small dirt area where the boys are playing under the only tree in the yard.

“Aunt Debby, we’re hungry.” Josh states, while standing at the door.

“How do you know your brother is hungry?”

“I asked him.”

“Oh.” “Mom, what can I give the boys to eat?”

“You could heat up some Spaghetti -O’s or there’s cheese and crackers in the pantry.”

“Josh, what do you want?

“I’ll have Spaghetti-O’s and Kyle wants cheese and crackers. Can we eat outside?”

“If it’s okay with Grandma, then it’s okay with me.”

“Grandma, can we—”

“—Yes, you can eat outside.”

“I’ll bring lunch outside when it’s ready Josh.” Fifteen minutes later, I set their lunch on the picnic table. “Boys, lunch is ready.” Josh is on his third bit as I lift Kyle up to the table.

Back inside, I watch my nephews eat and share their food. You wouldn’t know they were brothers, except for the little freckles across their noses and the color of their eyes—bluish green with a green halos. The little one is pudgy, his hair is straight as a stick and he can’t talk yet. He is demanding and opinionated; he grunts to make himself known. This works quiet well for Kyle so far. The big brother is slim with very curly hair. And, although he can talk, Josh is quiet by nature. He is kind and easy going. Josh gives Kyle his way on most things so there is little fighting between them.

When they continue playing with Hot Wheel cars in the dirt under my mother’s peach tree, I eavesdrop on their utterances. A “short grunt” means yes or okay and a “longer deeper grunt” means no or don’t. The boys don’t seem to need a two-way verbal conversation; it is good enough the way it has always been.

“Kyle, I want to be tall like Uncle Roland.” “I don’t want to be short like my Dad.” “Kyle don’t you think it’s better to be tall?”

“Short grunt.”

“Let’s build a bridge.” “Where would you like it?” “Right here?”

“Longer and deeper grunt.”

“Over here?”

“Short grunt.”

“I’ll build the bridge and you watch.”

“Short grunt.”

And, so goes another wonderful quiet afternoon watching and listening to precious moments. What I wouldn’t give to stay here a little longer! “Kyle, would you like Auntie to stay longer?”

“Short grunt.”