~ from Jill

For me, the Mystery Conference/Kansas Road Trip with my cousin, Ami, was a bit like a 72-hour slumber party; lots of fun, and over too soon. I remember all sorts of random things; shaking the hand of a man who published his first book after 47 years, muffins bursting with cranberries, house latte’s from Panera with cinnamon and whipped cream, an author complimenting my gypsy-girl sequined skirt which I accidentally removed a table-cloth with as I turned to take a conference photo.

I remember lovely things about that trip too, that coincide with memories of younger selves; falling asleep mid-sentence at night, applying eye-liner in a bathroom mirror together, borrowing blush, lipstick and pony-tail holders.

My cousin and I spent many childhood days together, and two difficult summers. We’ve seen each other’s parents in various stages of passion or exit, been through adolescence together, the gawky stage of pre-adolescence, jealousy over dolls and ringlets, and disarray over boyfriends. We have shared clothing, barrettes, shampoo and swimsuits. At times we said we couldn’t stand each other, yet wrote letters in grade-school cursive saying just the opposite.

In our family, intense closeness and partings seem to be the way of things. This trip was no different, except I think our kinship is stronger than before, and more elastic

Meeting so many kind-hearted authors at the conference, and holding their books in my hands as we spoke was moving to me, (a bit like meeting a rock-star backstage to a groupie). But spending time with my cousin, and enjoying every minute together was just as important.

The experience was reminiscent of summer camp, so exciting, and then a bit crushing when it ended. The “camp blues” hit me a few days after our visit, returning to South Florida with no family nearby. But I remember my cousin floating next to me in the pool at the hotel, and sighing, “I wish we lived closer together.”

For me, that was the highlight.

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.” ~ Anthony Brandt