The Mariner is adopted. Nice family, great childhood, even had a forest at the end of the block to wander through.
But, even with all the love in the world, both giving and receiving, he sometimes felt like a visitor. And even though everyone was very supportive, nobody quite got that he had to write, that not writing felt like not living to him.
One day, he was about 48 at the time, his mom told him the name of his biological mother. Who was a writer.
Four years later, he met, for the first time, a biological relative, his cousin. And eight years after that he met her children, his cousins, once removed.
Like Dave. Who is... a writer.
And has the same (warped) sense of humor.
And wears the same blue, checkered shirts he does.
And loves to set out without a plan - calling it spontaneous adventuring.
Both have partners who are smart, strong, women who...
...BECAUSE they organize and have a plan (I'm not saying, I'M JUST SAYING) ...
... ensure things get done and sights get seen.
Of course, these two cousins who just met last year...
... and got to visit again just the other day...
... might disagree about that.
Family, Of Several Sorts
Sunday Memories' Of Days Like This That Didn't Include Food Poisoning