A story by Toni Duldulao
I give up! The BOBB is my cousin and she has managed to get her sister, son, and friends to write something. She didn’t ask me but I felt that someone has to represent this side of the family. After all, I AM FAMILY! She and Malati are my cousins. Of course being the first born of our generation I always considered myself the older and wiser leg of “The Cousins” but in reality I am just older…in fact three years older than the BOBB.
Family relationships can be a funny thing. As children, we grew up during a time when families got together at Nana’s house for Sunday dinner. While our parents…the brother, sisters, and spouses talked about whatever they talked about…my cousins and I would spend the day playing, running around the yard, and chasing each other up and down the stairs. Unbeknown to us we were setting in stone a relationship that has been a lifelong one.
On those Sundays, we could be who we were. There were no pretensions. There wasn’t a teacher or an adult telling us how to behave in a certain way. Of course, our parents did raise us to be respectful to adults and of one another. They didn’t have to tell us it was just expected and if we forgot, they would remind us.
Now when we do see each other there are the friendly family type greetings. After a few minutes of “catching up” maybe followed by some quiet awkwardness, inevitably someone will say, “Do you remember when…?” We would laugh bringing up other memorable incidents of our childhood Sundays and laugh our way back to those days.
Back then little did I know how precious those Sundays would become to me. As adults, we rarely see each other because we live in various parts of the state. In reality about the only time we do get together now is when some family member passes away. Yet when we do see one another all it takes is tapping into that little Sunday memory of decades ago, then time and distance melt away and we become just “The Cousins” once again.
photo by Rich Moffitt
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