When I was a kid, I thought I had
only two: Pat and Dee, daughters
of my father’s sister, our Auntie Lo.

And then Pat and Dee grew up
and had babies, and my sister and I
learned about second cousins,

a nice concept. And then those
babies grew up and had babies,
and we now have third cousins

like Emily, whom I will take to lunch
today to celebrate her completion
of another quarter at college.

And that’s just on one side
of the family. It turns out that we
have many more cousins—ones

we may never know. But Mom
and I had lunch yesterday with her
first cousin Kate, whom I’d thought

of as a second cousin until a friend
deeply into genealogy patiently tried
to explain the “removed” thing—

like Kate, it’s someone one generation
away from yours. I’m still a bit fuzzy
on all that—maybe Emily is really

my third cousin once removed?
But none of that matters. When
Kate comes toward me with

a big smile and bigger embrace—
when I do the same with Emily—
there’s no remove, just closeness,

just that sweet magic of family.