Awkward Conversations

Talking to a grown up nephew is, well, awkward.
I see it on both sides of the family.
The nieces always seem to have a lot to say. I can ask them questions about studies and jobs and life choices. The guys generally answer in monosyllabic grunts of yes or no. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this difficulty because I've seen my adult relatives feel the same awkwardness when trying to talk to my teenage boys. Sometimes I'll jump in the conversation with stories, illustrations. My boys rarely volunteer examples.
Tomorrow, my nephew Michael comes back from Afghanistan. Our family will meet him at the airport. The crowd of well wishers will probably prevent one-on-one conversation, but some time in the week that he's home, I hope to get some time to talk with him. And I need a plan so I can have a real conversation.
Michael was the first child of my siblings, a surprise baby the year my little brother graduated college. I had just finished grad school and taken a job in far away Florida but I immediately fell in love with those big brown eyes and the unruly brown hair of his. My brother and his wife would travel to Florida to stay with me for vacations and I loved spending time with Michael. I gave him his first haircut and cleaned up his puke from too many chocolate donuts.
He was an overactive little guy and found mischief wherever he went -- like the time he stuck the tweezers in the outlet of my makeup mirror blowing the circuit or when he stamped his foot during our visit to the llama herd. He got a sword at Disney World and broke it the next day before making up the saddest song ever about how "Michael breaks his toys..."
It's strange that after sharing an aunt/nephew life with so many good memories, we now have awkward silences.
Michael is 24 now and has been in the Navy for five years. He volunteered for duty in Afghanistan rather than going back on the nuclear sub he has served on in the past. I'm proud of all he's accomplished, but there's not much of a response to "I'm proud of you."
So, any suggestions on conversations with young men who, when they were little, climbed in my lap, and now have nothing much to say?

Careful What You Wish For...

The day before Thanksgiving, I was nearly in tears. Our holiday was going to consist of me, my husband and our three children. Earl had to work. I would do the cooking with the kids help. It didn't seem like much of a holiday. So I called my mom in Florida on my way to work that Wednesday.
"Please won't you and Dad come up for Christmas?" I begged. "I can't stand another holiday without family."
So they came up to Ohio. And my nephew in the Navy came home from Seattle. Then last week, after a flurry of phone calls, my older brother in Texas drove to my grandmother's house in Kentucky. He brought along his teenage daughter and 21-year-old son. Grace and I made the four-hour drive on Sunday morning to spend the afternoon celebrating my grandmother's 92nd birthday. Here's our whole family, minus my boys and husband.

In addition, my aunt, another uncle, a cousin and his wife and their two college-aged children all came too.
The kids had a good time catching up.

Well, I guess they aren't kids anymore. The girls range in age from 13 to 20.
But they caught up with each other like cousins do. They talked and played some music.

My cousin's son Logan is a freshman in college. He has acquired the nickname "The Rooster" but we don't want to know why.
The grown ups (that's me) reminisced about the days when they played Little House on the Prairie, roaming the woods behind my grandmother's house. Then we talked about how they played dress up and how most of them wouldn't fit in my grandmother's clothes now.
I wanted family for Christmas; I got family.
Grace and I drove home Sunday night in a snowstorm. Over the river...