We had a family reunion this weekend,
for my mom's siblings' families.
My grandpa would've been 100 this year.
Grandma's 98th birthday passed last week.
Nearly all of my mom's siblings are great-grandparents.
So the 100 people we had here
were really just a tiny fraction of my grandparents' descendants.
My mom was the baby of 7,
so most of my first cousins are closer to her age
than to mine.
It was fun to spend a little time this weekend
getting to know them better
as an adult.
I'm lucky to be related to a lot of really cool people.
This is my favorite shot of the weekend:
This is my mom's oldest brother, Leonard (76 years old)
and her youngest uncle, Harold (92 years old).
They've spent a lot of years working together.
Their faces float through a fair amount
of my childhood memories.
They both look so much like my grandma,
especially when they smile or laugh.
Watching them both laugh so hard they could hardly catch their breath,
while my oldest brother told a tall tale
(that happened to involve this particular uncle)
made my heart dance.
I love knowing where I come from,
and seeing little pieces of the people we love,
in all these other people who love them.
I love my family.
And I should.
I got a good one.