This morning I had a nice coffee and chat with my cousin (second cousin, if we’re being technical) who I haven’t seen in what we figured was about 8 years (more or less). It used to be that we’d see each other once a year at the ol’ Morrison Reunion. The one pictured above is circa 1990 (I am rocking Jams and an OP sweatshirt). It always seemed to take a day or so (over a weekend) to get straight who all the adults were and how they were all related.
We always had a lot of fun.
And then we grew up.
When I think about it, here in 1990, my mother was in her 30s. I’m just inside of mine, so as strange as it is to think about all of us, especially the younger ones, as adults, it’s the way it is. My kids would be the ones sitting on that big rock (or bench) now.
I’ve got some really great memories of those times. I was the youngest of the girls that used to hang together, and I so admired all of my cousins. They were cooler and braver than I was. We had our own cabins/rooms (depending on the year), and always stayed up late and ran around like we owned the place. Canoes and basketball and badminton and camp fires. And the talking! So much talking.
The talking with some cousins has always been easy. No matter how long is in-between visits.