Dinner with Family

“It’s funny,” I said to Friend as we got in my car to head back to my house, “how family members can annoy me in the abstract – how I can be irritated that I have to deal with these people so often. But then I see them and think, ‘Oh! You’re mine and I love you ever so much!’”

Having been invited to Cousin’s house to see Aunt and Uncle on their visit, I accepted happily, then sighed after I hung up the phone on Saturday. Aunt had earned a place on my list of irritants after her train request. She and Uncle also skipped my graduation ceremony which is not a big deal in good moments and a grave offense when I’m already aggravated. But I turned on a light this morning so as not to return to a dark house. I told Friend that Cousin had invited her to join us on the off chance that she’d be willing to leave the lab before some insanely late hour. The dinner was on my calendar and I decided I’d likely attend rather than sending last minute regrets.

After a morning therapy session that was both good (I fed my violet and am starting to date) and bad (I don’t think I’ll ever find someone to love and am therefore frustratingly pessimistic), I spent the day working. Making calls, returning emails, attending meetings, finishing paperwork. I wrapped up around 4:30 and with a fleeting thought that it’d be nice to go home and order pizza, I told Friend I was leaving and met her on campus. We made our way through reasonable traffic toward Cousin’s house.

I walked in and Aunt rose from the floor where she was playing with Little Cousin and reached for me. Before removing my coat or introducing Friend, I pressed into her, breathing in the familiar mix of laundry detergent and soap. I hugged her tightly, holding on as I realized how much I missed her – how much I loved her because she was Aunt. With a final squeeze, I released Mom's sister, then kissed Uncle’s cheek and settled on the floor to watch Little Cousin.

We had dinner and talked over lasagna – laughed and traded memories and enjoyed the company. Then we sang to Uncle over an ice cream cake and laughed as we remembered the birthday where I demanded hats, games and cake for Uncle since I had so enjoyed my party the month before. I watched Little Cousin dance in Cinderella shoes – clear plastic with feathers – as she did a very credible tap routine with much spinning and jumping to a soundtrack from the Leap Pad learning farm on the refrigerator.

I looked around and realized that I’m profoundly grateful for these people. Those individuals who look a bit like me, save Uncle (“Remember that time I had to tell my friends we weren’t related by blood?” I asked at one point and his face creased into a smile as he nodded. “It’s good to announce that.” He agreed.) They remember my triumphs and defeats and love me regardless of which came more often.

I’m too tired to expound upon this further, but it’s good to remember that I adore them. The moments I recognize myself, the times when I smile – impressed that I get to love such wonderful people, and the warmth when I’m folded in a hug I didn’t realize I needed quite that badly. All worth recalling when I scowl over the next card addressed to “Miss [me]” instead of “Dr. [me].” when Aunt remembers a holiday. Because sometimes I’m lame and petty, but I can refocus on the love and gratitude when a gentle reminder comes my way.