LittlePurpleCow Productions

A door to my past opened up and let him in. My cousin, Chris. Though our maternal grandmothers were sisters, and we grew up within driving distance of each other as young children, Chris and I have been apart for the majority of our lives. We saw eachother only on a handful of occasions, but I remember studying his school pictures in small frames over the years at my Aunt Loris' house. There was something mystical about him... this boy who was born after the death of a young son. A brother he didn't know. Chris was the light that appeared in the dark. I knew only that much about him. And decades passed.

Thanks to our cousin, Laura, we met for lunch during my last visit to New York and within an instant he was familiar. Less like a long-lost cousin and more like a big brother. He teaches me things like how to navigate the subway, use the clone stamp tool in Photoshop, and find cool apps for my iPhone. He tracks down my lost luggage and refills my glass of water when it gets low. He suggests the restaurants, asks questions, and guides me over thick chunks of snow along the streets of New York. Observant and full of thought. He makes me laugh so hard that it makes me cry. Had he not been my cousin, I would have picked him for a friend.