My cousins are my siblings. I'm an only child. I need them. I bulldog my way into their lives.
We've never lived in the same state yet I know the highs and lows of their lives. Heaven knows that they know way too much about me.
When I was 12-years old, my parents put me on a plane to visit his sister and family. (My first plane trip. My mom commented to my dad, "I hope she makes it.") I saw the ocean for the first time. I bought white platform shoes -- it was the 70s! A new family emerged. We're all grown now and we still lean on each other. They provide business advice and legal counsel. I provide marketing tips and occasional editing.
We share photos and marvel that this shared and weird history has shaped the people we have become. I may not talk to them often enough but there is not a doubt in my mind that I could pick up the phone and say, "Help!" They would come through. I would turn myself inside out to help any of them.
I have a couple of cousins on the other side of my family. I don't know them at all.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
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2 comments:
My cousins are very different. They live in California.
When my granny died, they did not care about her. Rather, they got upset because my mother got more of the money from the will than anyone on their side of the family.
Before we even buried Granny, they called and wanted to know when we would divvy up her jewelry. Guess what? It never got "divvied". They never got any!
I thought they were extremely inappropriate. We don't really speak to them.
I guess you don't remember that we took you to Florida when you were three years old. You saw the ocean then for the first time. I can understand it is easier to remember it at age 12 rather than age 3.
Love,
Mom
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