Sometimes you just have to write…
As I type this, I’m on the ferry from Tsuwassen to Swartz Bay, near Victoria, British Columbia. I’m on my way to visit my cousin Nicole and her family.
Nicole’s father, David, was my first cousin. He died some years ago, and I only ever spent time with him a couple times as an adult. He moved to Canada when he was a young adult and never left. All of my cousins were at least ten years older than me, since my father was ten years younger than his nearest sibling, and my mother was an only child. I never had that cousins-playing-together experience that happens in many families.
I do remember one time when I must have been in my teens when David and his wife, Cindy, along with their daughter, Nicole, came to visit us in Connecticut. I remember that David was loud and had a caustic sense of humor. It was the kind of humor that some might call rude, but I liked his raucous heartiness. I also remember Nicole, who must have been about two or three years old, and their bedtime routine, which included a bath, followed by Nicole running through the house naked, shrieking and giggling, with one or the other of her parents stomping after her pretending to be a monster chasing her.
I’m sure I saw David and his family once or twice after that, but the next time I remember was when my daughter was young, perhaps two or three years old, and we lived in San Francisco. We went up to British Columbia on a vacation, and visited them in Victoria as well.
David had the same caustic/rude sense of humor, and I still liked him. Cindy was still the warm-hearted sweetheart I remembered. Nicole was a young woman by this time and I didn’t get to speak to her much.
I’ve reconnected with Nicole, or, rather, connected with her for the first time, via Facebook. I feel like I know her and I feel like I know her kids, who strike me as bright and mischievous and joyful. I’m looking forward to meeting them and her husband “in the flesh.”
I love this feeling of “reunion” with people I barely know. I love that I can see a person after years, even decades – and this has happened with numerous other friends and relatives in my life – and feel as if nothing has changed, as if the connection has never been broken.
Do you sometimes have that feeling of connection after a long time apart? Or does it sometimes not happen, and you stay disconnected?