His cloudy indigo eyes drew me in and I inched closer to inhale his delicious soapy scent. As I reached out for him, a smile rocketed across my face. He had changed so much and I couldn’t wait to hold him. But, as soon as I had him in my grasp, he squirmed; a sad reminder that our relationship meant nothing to him.

His lower lip quivered and he looked around the airport with panic glistening in his gaze. I sang quietly and bounced him on my hip, but the terror did not leave his face until he looked over his shoulder and saw his Mom lugging her suitcase off the carousel. As soon as he saw her, he flapped his arms in excitement. His gummy grin opened and closed as he sang a song that neither my sister nor I could understand.

As I attempted to hold my six-month-old nephew close to my heart, he continued to wriggle away. He didn’t understand my need to capture the fleeting moments before he and my sister flew home. My grip simply served as an obstacle to prevent him from nestling into the rightful domain of his mother’s arms. Throughout the weekend, we played this game of catch and release. Each time I tickled his Buddha like belly or ruffled his downy hair, he gave me a little more leeway with my cuddling agenda.

I watched him explore my world with a sense of curiosity and wonder. Content that as long as he had his Mom in sight, nothing could harm him. I wish I could remember what that sense of infinite possibility felt like.

• When did I stop feeling awestruck that I could live in British Columbia and Canada at the same time? (Grade 1 geography really blew my mind.)
• When did I start to worry about whether the other kids at school liked me?
• When did I stop believing that I could play the lead role in the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway?
• When did I become a people-pleasing addict?
• When did I start to believe that practicality and discipline far outweigh spontaneity and dreams?
• When did I start searching for someone else with the belief that only he could add meaning to my imperfect life?

I am lucky that I have the chance to ask myself these questions. Not everyone has the time and space to reflect on life and to reinvent themselves in a purposeful way. Before you shake your head in skeptical disdain at my Pollyanna attitude, let me assure you that I understand the price I paid for this opportunity. I did not altruistically discuss my lucky break with C. as I cried on the bathroom floor and asked God to put me out of my chemo induced agony. But, now that the memories of mind numbing nausea and stabbing post mastectomy pain have started to fade, I have found a few cracks in my heart where I can let gratitude seep in.

Maybe gratitude is the first step to getting back to that place of wonder? I don’t know. It’s too bad I can’t ask baby Carter for his secret. By the time we can talk about it, he won’t remember what it felt like either.