Before our visit to Santa Rosa last month, the last time I saw my niece Cassie Flynn was just over a year ago. The family had gathered at my sister Mary’s house after the memorial service for my uncle Jim O’Malley. After raising our glasses and toasting uncle Jim’s memory, Cassie announced she had some news: she and her husband Frankie were expecting a child in the fall. I was sitting next to mom when Cassie told her she was going to be a great-grandmother. The news lifted the spirits of everyone seated at the Alococers’ dining room table, the moment amplified–for me, anyway–by the recent passing of uncle Jim.

Since then, I’d only been in touch with Cassie via text. Those texts and her Instagram posts kept me in the “family loop.” I was privy to some of the small milestones the Flynn family reached pre- and post-pregnancy: photos of baby bumps and baby clothes, napping in the crib for the first time, first smile with a purpose, the sorts of things most new parents share and that lend immediacy for those of us on the receiving end and at a distance, if but for a time.

The day of mom’s big birthday celebration, May 27,  Monica, Enedina, and I met Ava Ryan Flynn at last; again, we were at Mary’s house.  My initial impressions of Ava were 1) she’s so tiny and 2) she’s a chunk. Perhaps having been born a month premature explains, in part, her tininess. Her heft is most likely due to her parents diligence to counter any consequence of her early, hectic arrival (Cassie endured a good bout of cholestasis during her pregnancy and factoring the early delivery, it’s not hard to grasp how Ava weighed just five pounds at birth). Both Cassie and Frankie alluded to Ava’s apparent rubber-banded wrists and elbows–think Michelin Man–to show just how far Ava’s development had come in seven short months.

Ava looked simply perfect when I first saw her, completely engaged with the world around her.

An aside: I’ve been told I was hefty toddler, myself. It’s been plainly stated (by Ava’s mother no less) my “size” should have played a key role at being left behind at an airport nearly 55 years ago. So Ava and I have that in common: substance at a very young age, that is, not abandonment issues.

Miss Flynn displayed a good deal of endurance, as well. You’d think a seven-month toddler might need to power nap after spending the afternoon celebrating her great-grandmother Cathleen’s birthday with the rest of her family. But Ava hung in there long after Cate retired for the evening, foregoing her nap, and, I think, confounding or perhaps astounding her parents, maybe both. But at least one of her great-uncles didn’t mind.

Birthdays, weddings, and funerals are typically the forces that bring me to Santa Rosa these days. I can’t say when the last time I was there when that wasn’t the case. Not that I’m complaining. Meeting Miss Ava was a joy.  But sometimes I wish there wasn’t a reason to be Santa Rosa. It’d be nice just to be there for “being there’s” sake, to take in the quiet moments, knowing those are often the most significant ones.