My family-name is “Noozle.”
Many years ago, it began as a nickname, but now it’s more than that. I am also a Noozle. It’s a family role. There are some kids in my life who have grandparents, aunts and uncles, and a Noozle. That’s me.
One of my Noozlets was recently walking through his neighborhood with one of his parents — many states away from where I live. Often, when they pass a nearby house, a cat is outside, and my little friend always hopes to spot this kitty for some pets.
But alas, no kitty today.
“Looks like the cat isn’t there. Maybe another time,” his parent said.
“Maybe you could text Noozle,” he suggested.
“Why would I text Noozle?” the parent asked, puzzled.
“Because maybe she’ll come out and let us pet her cat.”
I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, he came to believe that I live in that house. I think that’s so lovely.
Even though he only sees me in person a few times a year, I’m a bit of a fixture in their lives. I’m often on the phone in their household, and we regularly sync up our Nintendo Switches and play together from our respective houses. But I suppose, rather than imagining that happening states away, he pictured me doing that from across the street…?
I love that.
For all my loved ones, of every age, I hope that even across distance we feel connected enough to feel like we live in one another’s neighborhood. My little one is teaching me what that is like.
Smuggling Grace 