My Cousin, Vinny ... well Angela, actually

My cousin came for a visit last night. We live in different provinces now (though ... less than a 3 hour drive apart - so I have no real excuse for this ... but) - I haven't seen her in eons. No, I don't know the exact definition of an eon. It has been a helluva long time, though. I really enjoy her company. She was my bud when we were growing up. More like a sister than a cousin - we even looked very much like we were sisters. She is 2 years my senior. I used to get to go to her school dances when I really had no business being at one due to my age ... nobody carded you at school dances, though. It was Divine. I was from a different city (...and it was an actual 'city') and the majority of the small town's kids were unduly impressed by my status. Plus, I was fresh meat ... and relatively cute to boot. Needless to say - they were golden times. I remember this one night, we got schnockered on vodka and kool-aid in her bedroom before going to one of these dances ... I'll date myself here, but our music of choice was a mix of songs like "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and "Push It". To this day, I can not hear either of those songs without being transported to that precise moment in my life. Anyway, she emailed me last week and said she was coming to the area and wanted to spend a night with me. I was really happy about that concept and looked forward to it all week. She hit here around 7 pm or so and spent the night. Unfortunately, she had other obligations for this morning, so I lost her early - but what a great visit. We talked about a whole bunch of stuff - from parenting, to remembering our grandparents (who I really don't remember well - my grandmother died before I was conceived and my grandfather died when I was seven) and our mates ... I reminded her of the days when we used to sit on her bed and dream about the men we would marry ... we were pretty young. I have already blogged about this story. Then we both reminisced about our "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" days. We had read this book that my mom had bought for us when we were really little about chickadees. We were so taken by the story that we hopped around crouched in little balls for the next six months chanting "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" in stereo all over the house. This memory is chiseled into my brain. I hope I never find this out for sure, but I'm pretty sure that is the likely location in time where my mind would digress - in the event I was stricken with dementia or some other truly awful disease of the brain like Alzheimers.

We have "later in life history" too - though the ending of that phase did some damage to our originally very sturdy roots. We shared an apartment when I was just shy of 18 years old. It wasn't a smart decision on either of our part. We didn't need to learn about each other, the things we learned about each other. Things like: She was an unholy slob, who had little to no quams about using (and allowing her boyfriend at the time to use) my toothbrush - and what originally appeared to her as my quirky 'dark' comments and hilarity when spazing out about the failings of others - was, in fact nothing less than unholy bitchyness and vengeful behaviour. For example, when I learned about her disregard for the sanctity of a person's toothbrush, I promptly cleaned all fixtures of the bathroom (including all the gunk around the floor of the toilet) and put it back. I, of course had not only purchased a new toothbrush (which remained on my person at all times), but I also gargled JAVEX for a freakin' week. yuck. We didn't last very long. Almost 4 whole months. That poor judgement cost us years. We didn't make a big deal or anything - we just kind of 'ended'. It was a number of years before we started hanging out again. Right around when she got married, in fact (nearly 15 years ago). Wow. Now she has a ten year old and an eight year old ... they live in a lovely community on PEI. I have an open invite to come and stay any time ... have for years and have never taken her up on the offer. Side bar: I am a tool when it comes to keeping in touch. I really don't know if it is paranoia or obstinacy or just plain old ugly laziness. I think it is a combination of all three, really.

One thing is for certain: My kids love her ... I love her. I have a blessed few that garner that kind of love. This is an area that needs some serious work where I am concerned. This must be nurtured. Like the song says - the older you get, the more you will need the people who knew you when you were young ... I certainly fit the criteria of getting older and nobody on the planet knows me like she does.

I love you, Ange. I promise to be better.