Diggers Unite

This weekend I attended a family reunion held at neighboring cottages in Ontario. It was co-hosted by an aunt and uncle, and a couple to whom I must somehow be related. This is pretty representative of the crowd of sixty-plus attendees: intimates interspersed with complete strangers.

Mom, dad, grandmother, sister, brother, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, nieces, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, second cousins once-removed, random boyfriends and girlfriends, and a host of others I wouldn't know if they sat beside me on a bus.

Any embarrassing displays? No. Not enough booze for that. Although some protested my uncle's insistence that lunch be deferred so he could explain his research into the family tree. Like, who cares who we are and where we're from? Pass the potato salad.

It's good to catch up with people you've known all your life. In recent years my aunt has found her calling teaching therapeutic yoga, and she described the challenges she's faced starting her business. And my younger cousins no longer retreat behind closed doors to talk of things beyond adult comprehension. People have married and started families. Some have new jobs, others have been laid off. Everyone looks different from the last time I saw them.

Observing my father displacing youngsters on the inflatable trampoline boat so he could flop into the water like a sea lion, I also reflected that some people never really change.

********************************

Towards the end of the day my three-year-old niece spies me from across the room and hurtles towards me.

"KIM!"

Hugging my legs she sighs "Oh Kim," as though our time spent apart were measurable in years rather than minutes. She asks a barely intelligible question and gestures towards the door.

"What is it Vera? Do you want to go outside?" She nods. Stepping out into the dusk, she takes my hand. We walk along the dirt road flanked by woods until she slows and puts her finger to her lips.

"Shhhh," she whispers, eyes wide. "The noise." I stop to listen. Crickets sound from all around.

"Yes," I acknowledge. "The noise."

Softly we tiptoe, listening, until it's time to go home.