I have a million cousins (well, not a million, but you get the idea). Oddly enough, my kids only have one. Not one each, but one total ...... that they have to share. Talk about down sizing.
One of my cousins passed away earlier this month. Growing up we were BFFs, and even into advanced adulthood we had much in common. We shared a love of books and flowers and paper dolls and pies and Granny and .....
I spent a week every summer at her house, and we romped and yapped like two young puppies. We didn't exactly run wild, but there were only so many minutes in that week and we were determined to live the hell out of each one.
We had our differences. She was the girly one; I was more of a tomboy. She liked Debbie Reynolds; I preferred Liz Taylor. She lived in a small city; I grew up in a small town. She went to a small college, I graduated from the largest university in the country.
We were family, but we were also friends. We never had an argument or exchanged harsh words. Not many people can manage that feat and still have interesting conversations.
So RIP, cousin o' mine. You are still in my heart, and our memories are still in my head.
1 comment:
When I was growing up, I remember hearing about your summer visits in the city. Always sounded like fun.
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