Today will be a four-generational affair, with family pouring into the house we're moving into from all across the Eastern Seaboard, and also from upstate. Although I guess that's really part of . . . you know, never mind. Anyway, sometimes seeing the gang in action makes me feel at home, and nostalgic for summer days at my grandparents house. Other times, though, I end up feeling like I'm at this awkward in-between place, where I'm not old enough to be treated as an adult, and I have to keep bringing stuff from the kitchen, but at the same time, I'm not young enough to be picked up by my feet and whirled around in the air. Still other times, I relax into it, and glaze over the weird parts with my green eyes that belong to neither my mother (blue) nor my father (deep brown).
Generation One: Me and my cousins, E and T. E and T are the main reason I make it through dinner parties and "let's be adults by having fun while just sitting in armchairs and talking about work" parties, partly because they know my ticklish spots. T is an aspiring actor, and approaches his life with the same wonderful theatricality that he brings to the stage. E is a star in her field, which involves lots of things, but as far as I can tell, the main points are camping and picking litter. Those, at least, are the crudest aspects. The trouble with this generation is the vast difference in age. T, who is younger, is twice my age. This means that they can help me with math homework and teach me about life, but that they don't necessarily want to dance Gangnam Style with me.
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