We’re here at my uncle’s house. He lives on 25 acres somewhere in Texas. It’s been a wonderful visit, one we haven’t made in at least four years. We arrived yesterday after a 10-hour drive and got to have a delicious bbq’ed chicken/hamburger dinner. Today after brunch my uncle walked with the four of us around his property. He’s put in a pool since we’ve been here, now giving him three bodies of water on his land (the other two being small ponds). He’s also adding in a sunroom and a patio that leads to the pool. After the hike around the property we ended up on the pool deck where he asked me about Japan and Mom and I sat with him and my aunt talking about school and lousy doctors. I really love my family.
The hallway is littered with hundreds of pictures. For someone who takes a lot of photographs, it’s an odd feeling to look at so many for which I have no background knowledge. It’s always been an odd feeling for me but it really struck me last night as I perused the hall, searching faces I did not know and moments I wasn’t a part of. I think the fact that this is my family makes it that much weirder. Pictures of cousins that I have never met (well, half-cousins really) stared back at me with eyes I didn’t recognize.
