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funny; I worried about what we'd have to talk about. I need not have worried; it was the most natural thing in the world. My brother, not known for lengthy conversations, kept up with me and then some!

Just yesterday we returned from a mini-vacation; once again, just the bro and I. We visited a resort in Delavan, Wisconsin, where my Mother (my Dad always stayed home to work) took us many consecutive summers during our youth. It's about an hour and one-half drive each way, if you don't get lost. (Note to self: Don't let brother be the navigator in future.) In the interest of fairness, I must confess my brother has some legitimate concerns about my driving. He told me on numerous occasions: "Your vehicle is an SUV, but when the manual refers to "off-roading", they don't mean running over curbs and parking blocks!"

It was a trip down Memory Lane, one that had us remembering little details, funny incidents and most especially the love we shared there as a family. We were able to rekindle that love of family. We talked about those who have passed on, we missed them, but mostly we appreciated the time we had with them. We reminisced about the time our older brother, Tim, fell off the pier into Lake Delavan. He was in chin-deep water, flailing about and yelling at us for help. At the time, Ralph and I just stood there because we thought it was hilarious; my Mother, not so much. I also remembered one night when the resort was holding a get-together for their guests. My Mother, always a lady, had accepted an offer to dance with a gentleman. It was all very proper, but me being the consummate Daddy's Girl, stepped right between them and announced "Mister, she's married!" I would protect Daddy's interests at all costs! I think that was the summer I turned eight; some might say I was being bratty, I prefer loyal and perhaps precocious.

Take the time, make the time if you must, to reconnect with your family member(s). Distance and/or grand destinations are not of great importance. I found the best times were when we had nothing planned and we just gabbed. I learned that my brother is the unofficial historian of our family. Being several years older, he just remembers more; he answered questions and clarified things for me that no one else could possibly do.

One particularly great moment: I had my 56-year-old brother laughing so hard (at an upscale eatery) that he had milk coming out of both of his nostrils. Ahhh, the memories - I only wish I had my camera!

Learn more about this author, Mary Dorice Wills.
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