Today, we had brunch with my cousin’s cousin and her family visiting from Montreal. The funny thing about my cousin’s cousins is that although they are technically not my cousins, they seem to enjoy seeing me more than they want to see their own blood cousins. So the times they’ve come to New York since my New York cousin’s wedding, they’ve always reached out to me first to see if I’m available, and sometimes they don’t even see their own cousin here.

Chris always thinks the situation is odd, and he knows it’s odd primarily because when these group meals happen, the table tends to get very divided, as we’re not all actually interacting with each other. My local cousin and I barely speak, mainly because I find him one-dimensional, boring, and always a complainer who thinks his life is the worst of the worst (never mind the fact that there actually are people living in poverty in New York City, much less the world, but he seems to think he’s the worst off since he lives in a working class neighborhood where people oftentimes gets his takeout order wrong). I really only see him when it’s his little son’s birthday, or when we have family visiting from out of town. He is the kind of person who makes the best situations seem the worst (one of the latest texts from him includes “(my wife) doesn’t get that New York sucks” simply because his train is delayed going home). Sounds like he really fits into my bloodline, then, right?

His cousin from Montreal is a world away from him, though. She’s actually really fun, positive, and enjoyable to speak with. She has four kids, and they’re all upbeat and healthy. “How is someone normal like her related to the rest of your three cousins?” Chris asked me. I don’t know?