My husband’s cousin arrived.
Perhaps I’m old-fashioned, and maybe things are different nowadays, but I can’t quite believe they are.
My mother never actually told me”when you visit family, you ought to bring gifts”she never taught me that directly. But it’s settled within me as absolute as two and two, from where I don’t know, maybe from books, films, plays over the years.
On Saturday, my husband’s cousin came to stay. He had come for his uncle’s funeral, though not an uncle from our side of the family.
We’d spoken beforehand and assured them it was no bother if they needed to stay the night, that they shouldn’t worry.
That evening, the three of them arrived with their son and his wife in tow. I made a proper supper, roasted a tray full of meat, prepared salads and such like. We sat together, raised a glass to seeing one another again after so long. Afterward, I showed everyone to their rooms, and the next morning I set out breakfastsandwiches, tea, coffee.
They left for the funeral after breakfast. When they returned, they sat with us for a while and then set off home.
Everything seemed perfectly fine. Onlythey arrived empty-handed, not even a bottle of wine as a gesture.
My late father-in-law had been his cousin’s godfather, and his wife, now my mother-in-law, lives with us still, and the cousin knew this. Good heavens, we are far from poor, but he might at least have brought a box of chocolates for the old dear. She waited all Saturday, peering out the window. She even wiped away a tear, she was so touched by the occasion.
If it were me, that’s what I would’ve done.
Firstly, I would have brought a drinkcertainly more than just a bottle or two. I’d have made sure the children and the older folks each had some sweets and probably a little keepsake of some sort. I’d have taken time to choose something for each person, to find the right sort of gift.
And I’d have brought my own bedding, to save the host the trouble.
They’re not hard up, let me be clearif they were, I wouldn’t be so put out. This cousin is hardly ever here, but whenever he does come, it’s always with nothing in hand. Another time, he was sent on business, arrived Sunday evening, left again Monday morning. Still, empty-handed.
All the time, he told me tales of their fishing adventureshow many, what kinds, the big ones that got away. I just wish he’d brought me even one fish, for all that speaking.
Honestly, I don’t begrudge the food when I’ve guests, but I can’t help the sour taste. I feel somehow taken for granted.
And it always seems to go this way, time after time…
