Over lunch, shopping, cocktails, dinner, and afterwards, my youngest first-cousin and I talked, and talked, and talked, and we kept returning to family, specifically, our shared one.I dizzied from new news and old news, fact and innuendo, difference and similarity, shared and separate sorrows, as if sliding sweatily like condensation down a slippery glass or circling madly round the ribs of a glowing lantern.
What a strange thing, family: missed, missing, messy.
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