Last night I came home from Colorado after spending the weekend there with my extended family; cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone. As the second oldest grandchild, second only to my older brother, I'm caught in the middle years between 'kid' and 'adult'. Technically I'm still a kid, so to my uncles and aunts I'm not quite an adult. But to my much younger cousins, I'm clearly not one of them. They adore me, let's be honest, but we're worlds apart; I don't know all the words to Justin Beiber's latest song, or know all the Stars du Jour on the Disney Channel. I still enjoy getting to know them and hear about their lives, but clearly they enjoy each others company much more than mine.
You (all my fabulous readers(keela)) are probably wondering what all that has to do with "paris when it sizzles" AND I'M GETTING THERE. this post needs a lot of prefacing; but that is important in a first post.
The story has been diluted over the years but here it is. When my dad and his four brothers and one sister first moved to Minnesota they had family portraits taken with all the children. My grandpa (we call him Pop) had a picture of himself taken and gave it to my grandma for christmas as a joke. When my aunt, Mary, the eldest of the six, went to college seven or eight years later, the picture showed up in her dorm room. The photo was then gifted and re-gifted to all the kids in the family as they went to college, or studied abroad or went on their honeymoons.
Over the years the picture would disappear in basements or attics only to reappear as someones gift years later. Until recently, the portrait was at my grandma's house waiting to be discovered. Last christmas my aunt Rana and uncle Matt went to Turkey to spend time with Rana's father and my grandma (that's Matt's mother) sent their presents ahead with of course, the infamous picture of Pop.
At our final dinner with the entire family in Colorado, My uncle Matt, who is also my godfather, handed me a huge box and inside of course, was the worn out, 11X13 inch picture complete with holes from it's previous owners. Receiving the picture makes me feel more like an adult than graduating from high school or turning 18 ever could.
Of course the picture will come with me to France. And who knows who will receive it next.
