Postcards From Danbury

The Fourth of July is wonderful, because it makes us all feel like children. Children who drink and endanger their lives with fire, but still, a variety of children — and everything is awe-inspiring, and everyone is invincible, and there are only board games and rice krispie bars and a pontoon ride around the lake at night, snuggled under blankets and cooing “oooo. Ahhhhhh.”

Full album from Wisconsin adventures here.

My cousins are currently scattered around the continent (with one representative in Japan: he joined us via Skype), but we decided to have our own family reunion last weekend. Some of them I’d played with endlessly as children; some of them I’d never met, but all of them felt like strangers at first. Even Elizabeth, Rob and Colin — I hadn’t seen them since I was ten or twelve. Who were these strange adults? Why did they somehow look so familiar? Paige and I pulled up to Gate 6 at the MSP airport, and I waved my arms out the window like an octopus.

They all smiled and came running — partly because there had been a security breach and they’d been standing there for hours, but also because it was wonderful to see each other again.

We all crammed in the car, headed North.

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