We have just returned from beautiful North Central Idaho for the every-two-years (what is that, bi-annual?) Golightly Family Reunion. Big fun. My husband is from a tribe that has remained remarkably close knit despite time and distance doing that thing that they do to families these days. His grandfather was one of eight children, and I do believe that all of his living siblings (as well as Darrell, my husband's grandfather) were in attendance. In all, I think we counted 60 peeps. From Darrell, the oldest at 88, to Sweet William, at 9 months old.
Will gets “youngest” honors only in the absence of the newest baby Evan who was born just a few weeks ago. And only by a hair as he has a second cousin Cameron who was born a day before him. Cameron is also about to become a big brother – you can do the math on that one because I’m too scared to think about it. So the title of youngest is something held briefly in our ever expanding clan. Hopefully you get to hang on to the oldest title for a bit longer.
Sweet William giggled and cooed and smiled at his kinfolk in that way that makes everyone remark about what an easy baby he is. (So true, thank you Jesus!) And Sweet Pea. Well, Sweet Pea was in kid heaven. Complete with a never ending game of kick the can. It made me nostalgic and wishing for fire flies. I've never seen a fire fly, mind you. But it seems like memories of running through the alfalfa at dusk with all your cousins around you should come complete with fire flies. Doesn’t it?
It was absolutely mind-boggling to me that she is not one of the babies anymore. That we are not “the kids”, or even the newlyweds. At one point we were watching an old home movie of my Father-In-Law’s generation playing football in the very same yard in which we were standing. They were teenagers and younger. With summer sun bleached hair and tan backs. Every face on the screen resembled a face running around in the yard, and for me, who has never looked like anyone in my own family, to see my children in those faces was eerie and fascinating. My SIL, Scarlett and I joked about watching home videos in 30 years. But even while we laughed the proposition rather took my breath away.
Which is not to say that the generation ahead of mine hasn’t aged well. There was a lot of waterskiing and cliff jumping being done by the grandfathers and it was nothing to sniff at. And those Golightly women are beauties. No arguing that. Mr. G has a great aunt who looks like a picture in a magazine every time I see her.
I took my camera and didn’t take a single picture. Too much baby wrestling. But I am anxious to see everyone else’s, and to post a few shots of Sweet Pea riding horses. Along with the tale of “How I Discovered I am Afraid of Horses.” Until then, there are 84,000 piles of laundry with my name on them.
And for random photo Tuesday, I offer up this little gem taken at the last Golightly Family Reunion in 2006. Time flies!