Cousins

I was born richly blessed with cousins.  I had twenty seven of them.  Some we rarely saw, some were part of our regular social set-up.

Cousins are less close than siblings (I had one sister) but they were still family.  They knew which aunt always had a full cake tin and didn’t mind if it was empty once we had been.  They sympathised about the uncle who told dreadful jokes.  I spent many a glorious afternoon with one or another of my cousins getting up to things our parents wouldn’t have approved of and then going home.  Bliss

Then we grew up.  Cousins scattered across the country. Some married.  Years passed.  To be honest, I saw them very little during my working life.  Just the occasional funeral. 

But retirement is different.  I suspect that as a single woman with no siblings, my cousins are more important to me than they are to many people.  Several have died, with some it's just Christmas cards, but I still see about eight of them fairly often.  And they are the people I rely on most.

One cousin had four daughters and between them they can usually respond to emergencies.  Two cousins live here in Caistor.  One now lives in France but we still have long, hilarious phone calls.  One was widowed and appreciates my help in creating a new life for herself.  Another keeps an eye on me for DIY needs and he’s recently helped me change my car. 

But no matter what the spoken reason is for meeting up, we always have a wonderful “do you remember?” time.  We remember the people who have gone.  We remember the picnics, the Christmases, the family rows and the family jokes.

So here's to cousins.  They may not be the people we see most often.  But when we do meet, the years seem to fall away.  And for a little while, we're children again.