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Rhinestones, Rodeos, and One Very Important Video Call

I’ve done a lot of weird things on tour—sung in a barn while a pig tried to eat my fringe, shared a motel with a ghost (long story), line-danced in a thunderstorm. But today officially takes the cake: I met my niece for the first time… from a beach in Moscow.
Let me explain.

They put us up in this hotel that claims it has a “private beach experience.” Which, I now understand, means a sandy stretch along the Moscow River where the beer is warm and the WiFi is theoretical. Roxy texted “Call me. She’s perfect.” and I ran—literally ran—in boots and a bikini top, trying to find enough signal to see that baby’s face. Since she is my niece, I already know that she is beauty and perfection.
The first spot I tried? Nada. Just me, a confused sunbather, and a seagull with no regard for personal space.

Second attempt? Got to hear half a sentence before the video froze on Jasper’s blurry forehead and what I think was Rox’s nipple. Honestly, not the worst surprise picture in my camera roll - the others I have would probably get me canceled for eternity.
Finally, after waving my phone like a flag and climbing onto a lifeguard chair that I’m pretty sure wasn’t meant for public use, I got her. I cried. Right there in front of a guy playing techno on a portable speaker and three kids burying each other in sand. I cried, because my sister looked like a goddess even after giving birth, and because my niece blinked right into the screen like she already knew me.

After the call, I sat there on that ridiculous beach, sand in my boots and bikini, sunburn on one shoulder, heart so full it ached. Then I stood up, shook the sand off, and went to soundcheck like a woman who knows she’s now someone’s auntie.