A Cousin Encounter of Another Kind (Five)

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                                            ONE TWO THREE FOUR

I felt anticipation and fear as I waited to greet my cousin face to face. Would we be more strangers or buddies? Would we prune the broken branch of our family tree? Encourage growth again? He had called me, hadn’t he? I thought as the door opened. I stepped up onto the threshold and leaned into an embrace that lasted the equivalent of two or three bear hugs.

Fort Hamilton neighborhood

Joe introduced me to his landlord who appeared in the hallway, as landlords tend to do. “This is my Cousin Laura who I haven’t seen for a long time."His voice - full of emotion.

I went to sit on the  platform of the small stoop. Small as compared to one I remembered from the house I grew up in on 17^th   Avenue. My cousin filled the doorway, his body supported by a cane, as we waited for his sister and mother to park on the street. “You look thin,” he said. I guess weight is relative.“There they are.” He pointed to his mother and sister as they walked toward us from the car. My aunt, 80, smiled broadly. Our hug – mutually grateful.

“You look wonderful,” I told her.

“Well, I don’t  feel so wonderful,” she replied as she gave a dismissive wave. But there she was, warmer than I remembered. Yet, I wonder if any of us can distinguish between what seemed so - way back when - and  what really was. Or how different our reality was compared to our cast of memory-makers. My father’s brother, not his wife, had been the main character of the family, for better or worse. He left a lot opened to interpretation. But then, don’t we all?  

Joseph’s sister climbed the steps. I was thrilled to see her. And even though she had, of course, aged, she seemed full of energy - clearly reminding me I was over five years older than her. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve thought about how different I would be today - if my parents had not moved out of Brooklyn when I was ten. Did my cousins who stayed offer a glimpse of that difference?  

We headed to the car. My aunt said,“Let’s drive to 78^th Street,” then turned to me. “You want to see you old house?”

Did I !

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