Looking back, I distinctly remember reading the book The Relatives Came by Cynthia Rylant. I laughed about the family’s travels to visit their relatives and how crowded the house was. As well as the things the child narrator said about the family. This summer we lived that book, with a few minor plot changes and edits.
I was lucky enough to have all six members of my family come stay with us for a week and a half. Like in the story, they loaded up their Suburban and left early in the morning to drive the 20 hours to get to our Minnetonka apartment, from their Utah home. To break up the drive, along the way they viewed Crazy Horse, drove through the Badlands of South Dakota, and visited Mount Rushmore.
When they finally arrived, we couldn’t stop hugging. It had been too long since I had last seen them. The first thing we did was get some dinner and then went to watch the fireworks at the annual Music in Plymouth event. It was almost like the fireworks were celebrating their arrival (I definitely was, but in all reality, they were for the 4th of July). Afterward, we stayed up and talked and talked until our eyelids drooped.
They all stayed in our little, two bedroom apartment. I could describe it on my own but the book gives a perfect description of what happened, “The relatives weren’t particular about beds, which was good because there [was only one extra]… and the rest slept on the floor, some with their arms thrown over the closest person or some with their arm across one person and a leg across another. It was different going to sleep with all that new breathing in the house.” But, it was worth it.
Over the next week and a half we played, and camped, and ate, and explored, which I will write about in my coming posts. With a crew as fun loving and adventurous as my family, there is much to be said. Yet, the time went by much to quickly, “We were [just] so busy hugging, and eating, and breathing together.”