I am No One

I had an awkward conversation this morning, which I admit is not an altogether unusual event for me, but this was more so than even I am accustomed to.

I was at Mass with my wife’s grandmother, aunt, and the aunt’s son and his two young children. In conversation before Mass I was trying to figure out who I was to each of these people, suggesting things like brother-in-law or son-in-law once removed or second cousin in law and the like, but the aunt settled it by saying, “The truth is you are no one to us.”

Early in Mass the son (My wife’s first cousin), had to leave the Liturgy with his toddler, who I think is about two years old and is fond of Elsa and Doritos.

This left my wife’s aunt with a young baby, the kind who has no teeth and cannot yet hold his head up .

The baby started acting up and I could tell the aunt was tired so I offered to take the baby. He eventually settled down and was easy to hold for the remainder of the liturgy.

Shortly after Mass, a matronly woman approached me making all of the noises that such women make when they see a cute baby and asked me how old the baby was. I told her I had no idea and then, after a moment of looking at the baby I said, “Maybe two or three months? What do you think?”

She was very puzzled by this and then asked, “Well, he’s very cute, what’s his name?”

I thought about it for a moment and then gave her a name, but I may have phrased it such that it sounded more like a question, you know, the way valley girls and most Millennials speak, with a rising tone as they near the end of the sentence.

This seemed unsettling to the lady, so I offered that it wasn’t my baby and I turned to point out the baby’s mother and grandmother, only to discover that both were gone. I was, in fact, no one.

So I did whatever anyone in that situation might do; I asked her where the coffee and donuts were and quickly left in search of them.

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