by Mary Tate
My mother is the oldest of seven children. The youngest three are very close to me in age. They were more like siblings to me than aunts and uncles. Because of this, we were always together. My father travelled quite a bit for his job, and it was not uncommon for my mom to take my brothers and I to have dinner at my grandparents’ house where we would all squeeze around the table.
I have remained very close with my aunts and uncles. Despite all of us going our separate ways and to all corners of the country, we somehow managed to maintain contact and unbelievably, we’ve all returned to the Pittsburgh area. Our kids are now the same ages, which at times, can be confusing when trying to explain the dynamic of the relationships.
We make it a point to have an annual trip to Presque Isle and Lake Erie each summer. We load up our cars with picnic lunches and snacks, sand toys, balls, frisbees, fishing rods and boogie boards in the hopes that there will be big waves that day. The expanse of Lake Erie is mind-boggling. If you didn’t know it, you would think you were at the shore except your eyes wouldn’t burn after being tumbled by a wave. It is truly phenomenal, both in size and in beauty.
Some of the cousins are now in college and the youngest is only three, yet, there is something for all of us to do while we are there. The younger kids try to bury each other in the sand or go on some exploratory adventure. The teenagers lay out and complain that they can’t see their phone screens, and their parents relish in that same disconnect and take in the pleasure that comes from being together.