“But how do you know when a person is ‘the one?’” She asked, hands held up in quotations just seconds before falling to her lap.
Her Aunt smiled her secret smile. “Sometimes, you just know.”
Silence filled the room while she pondered her next question.
Then tentatively, because, even though she was only in her 11th year of life, an innate knowing often counseled, as it did now, and she listened and knew that some subjects required a gentle approach. “Are you ever sad you haven’t met your ‘one?’”
“I used to be— just ask your mother,” Aunty replied quirking her brow in amusement. “When she met your father, she knew— and it was doubly good news for her since that meant she was no longer enrolled in Mama’s impromptu ‘I Want Grandchildren’ Lectures. With my little sister graduating, your grandmama could now focus all of her attention on me. And I was so thrilled.” Aunty deadpanned, and her audience of one erupted into giggles.
A beat later, adopting a more affectionate tone, she continued. “No, I was thrilled for your mother. And at the same time it was hard for me. But then, as is sometimes the case with the passage of time coupled with a determination of spirit, I decided I could either focus on the hard or find a way to thrive. So, I worked on trusting that if it was meant to happen for me, then it would. And in the interim, I could simply be happy for all those for whom it did happen.”