Today is my cousin Liz's 21st birthday. She might still be in Turkey, she might be back in Seattle for the start of school...I don't know. I'm going to find her number and give her a call, as I've attempted the last few 9/8s.
She'd my second-favorite girl, the little sister I never had, but felt as protective of.
There came a point at our Mexico wedding when I was making the rounds, stopping at tables to say hi and try to spend time with friends and family, where I got to the table with my mom, my Auntie Peg and Uncle Dan, possibly my dad and brother as well, and Liz, and there was a heated conversation going on. I wasn't aware what was being discussed, and as I got to the table, my mom and Auntie Peg asked me if Liz had ever worn a bathing suit during a Christmas trip to Hawai'i we took in 2003, four and a half years before. This is before I even got to say "hi" or anything. Liz said something, but was quickly shushed. "Let Patrick answer," they chided.
Now, as much as I love my mom, and my god-parents, Auntie Peg and Uncle Dan, I have a reflexive desire to always--always--side with Liz (and Mike, her older brother, my cousin and hero), and here I was in a position where I didn't know which answer was more beneficial to Lizzie.
I tried to take an answer not offered, saying something like, she probably wore a suit, she was definitely in the teenager-broody-too-cool-for-school phase that we all go through, while apologetically looking at her, since the older generation's point seemed to be that in Hawai'i Liz never went swimming, or never put on a suit and got in any water--be it pool or ocean. I figured that out after I finished what I was saying, then felt sheepish. She needs me better than that, I remember thinking...
I love you Liz. Happy birthday!
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