looking through me

Tag: family

October 30, 2014

like family

Sometimes as a child I felt like the odd-man out: Mom and Dad had each other; the eldest and the middle had each other. As the third child, and only girl, did I fit?

Of course I did. These were my people. Irreplaceable. They were mine and I was theirs. It’s still true.

But family isn’t a stagnate word.

Certain people surpass the standard definition of friend. They’re the ones I can call at any time, day or night. They’re the ones who can read between the lines of an email or interpret my silence. They’re the ones who show up uninvited because they hear what I say, but they know what I mean. They’re like family.

I’ve collected them along the way. Not one of them would I have pegged as a future family member the moment I met them. They know me in different capacities than my family does. We share a history that crosses the one I share with my family but runs different roads as well. They don’t have to love me, but they do.

And they see my family in ways I cannot. They see the parts I take for granted and point out how special those bonds are. They’re drawn to qualities I didn’t realize aren’t inherent in every family.

They don’t replace my family. They augment it. They remind me I fit.

 

This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.

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October 29, 2014

O, Cousin(s), where art thou?

I have three first cousins on my dad’s side. Until the age of ten, they lived close enough to see on holidays and birthdays. But then they moved hundreds of miles away. It was crushing to face family gatherings without them.

Two years later my first cousin on my mom’s side was born. The twelve-year age difference hardly mattered. I was smitten.

Within five years my cousin—and her younger sister—moved even farther away than my first set of cousins. Hundreds of miles seemed paltry compared to the thousands of miles and large ocean between us.

But times were changing. It was my senior year of high school and the international move prompted my parents to get a dial-up modem. We had Internet access at home. The move didn’t feel quite so disconnecting. We had semi-instant access through computers. And they came back to visit. I watched my cousins grow in time-lapse increments.

When they were in elementary school and I was almost done with college, I went to visit them. We spent a glorious week together before I backpacked on to other locales.

And now they are here. College students themselves. The years of separation don’t matter. Some bonds simply are. Nurturing and proximity help, but they withstand neglect and time. When my cousins on my dad’s side arrive for weddings and funerals, the decades melt away.

Cousins—same roots, same collective memory, same family—the ones I fall seamlessly in step with for whichever legs of the journey we’re able to walk together.

 

This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.

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