The Cota kids

My only brother and his wife have four small children. In more ways than one they are carrying on the Cota family name.

But we used to be the Cota kids, and it was the best kind of childhood imaginable.

Carla was the oldest and the strongest and the fiercest.

Then me. I was smart and moody.

Then Marjorie, hard working, honest, determined.

Then Chris, the baby of the girls, so pretty.

And then came Jim, the afore-mentioned father of four. Back then he was the only boy, a tow-headed burst of energy wtih a million-dollar grin.

This July we all gathered at the beach near our parents' home in North Carolina to spend a week together. We played games, we prepared meals, we did dishes, we read books, went shelling and swimming and had a great visit to North Carolina's new aquarium. We played in the surf and laid in the sun. We put up umbrellas and chased down inflatables. We listened to the wind and we watched a storm blow in over the horizon. We marvelled at the rolling thunder and jumped in shock when a bolt of lightning struck close. We dug our toes in the sand and lathered on sunscreen. We did laundry and we took naps. We missed the few who were not among us and we told our favorite stories again. We dusted off our memories and made some new ones.

It was truly wonderful to be a Cota kid again.