One of the things I remember about being around cousins was the sheer pleasure of being in one anotherís company. Maybe there was fighting, but I donít remember any. Why was the connection so strong? What is it about feeling so at home with your own kin? We saw our cousins, even the closest in proximity maybe three or four times a year, but they were dearer to us than our closest friends; kids we saw three or four times a week.
Blood is thicker than water, so the saying goes, and I have found that to be true. I had older cousins that I was a little afraid of. Growing up with four sisters, and no brothers, meant that large male persons of any kind were a little intimidating. But these guys I feared and adored simultaneously. The younger cousins seemed cute, not bothersome at all; unlike my friends little brothers and sisters. And the ones my age, give a year or two on either side? They were pure gold.
Swimming in the summer, riding bikes in the spring and fall, watching our mothers and fathers play cards with the snow swirling outside the windows; the activity didnít matter. We were exactly where we wanted to be. We were loved, we loved in return, and all was well with our world.