We just had the most wonderful week with my cousin from Australia, via India, (who I hadn’t seen in over 20 years), and his wife and kids who we’ve never met.

I was a little worried about how it would all work out– how they’d fit in the house, how we’d manage with the kids’ schoolwork, (both had tests/projects all week), whether they’d get in enough piano practice with the recital at the end of the week. I wondered how I’d get my graduate school reading done, when I’d already fallen behind.

But, “no worries.” Everything was great. We had so much fun.

I spent yesterday evening, drowning in my sorrows over a leftover eclair from our day trip to Helen. My cousin was exactly how I remembered him. His wife was so sweet and loved to chop vegetables, which made cooking for everyone a breeze. By the end of the week, their sons were brothers to my daughters.

In the past eighteen months, I’ve seen four, first cousins after a twenty-ish year separation. Two summers ago, in India, I met up with two of them. This summer, in Amsterdam, I met up with a third one. And now this past week, I saw the fourth.

I’ll never let this long pass between our visits again.