Avuncular Amore

I’ve delighted in observing my brother Cory’s obvious affection for you. Your Uncle Cory works hard, so hard that before you were born we could hardly find time to visit despite living in the same city. Lately he’s been working for The New York Times on a project that consumes his days, evenings, and weekends. Like most New Yorker’s, he’s always racing to keep pace with the never-ebbing flow.

But since your arrival, we suddenly see him more. He comes early in the evenings and he comes to see you, to check up on how you’ve changed since his last visit. And when he holds you he looks at you with the same kind of awe you show back to him. You both seem transfixed by magic, as if wondering how the other one got there, not sure whether the apparition before you is real. He talks about how he’ll lead you astray, take you to football games and amusement parks, introduce you to cotton candy and chocolate and other delights. He reminds me of how many wonderful discoveries you have ahead of you.