Cousin Pile- 250 words

CONTENT WARNING: Miscarriage

I’ve been listening to the grownups telling tales through the wall from my cousin pile in the den. They throw us in here when they are tired of us and call it bedtime. 

We share blankets and pillows and tales of our own. We talk about the cookies we snuck when no one was watching, the craziest things that happened at school this week.  I love the togetherness we have on these sleepovers. 

I love the next part more. When the dozens of cousins drift off one by one, and the hushed giggles become languid rivers of yawning, that’s when things get good. The parents, thinking we’re all sleeping like river rocks, stop being parents.  

Cousin pile laughter erupts from them, spontaneously and from the deepest parts of their bellies. They tell stories of getting high on Libby Lane behind the school, tease each other about fears they outgrew decades ago, share secrets. 

That’s how I learned Aunt Jenny was going to have a baby. It’s also how while I excitedly waited for an official announcement of my newest cousin, I heard of her miscarriage. I grieved alone the baby I was never meant to know, while the adults showered her with ‘I’m sorry’s instead of gifts.

When I grow up and start growing a baby, I will openly tell everyone the very second it starts to sprout. We’ll squeal and think of epic names together.  And if it fizzles, we’ll make the biggest cousin pile ever and cry together, too.