Every summer during the warmest months someone would pick a date and notify the family of this family reunion style event. Someone would call dibs on the trailers - there were two of them on the lot at this time, one trailer suited to a trailer park and one suited more for camping. The rest of the family would pitch tents wherever they could manage.
My family lived two and half hours away from the trailer. In fact, most of the extended family lived near us and traveled just as far. Three of my grandparent's children had opted to live in or near Fostoria, Michigan, where they had grown up. Only two had opted to leave and build lives elsewhere. I had one aunt who had moved to Harrison, Michigan, and another aunt that might have lived in either town or anywhere in between; she's a bit of a gypsy and keeping track of her is almost impossible.
I don't remember the drive. I imagine I had a book to help me pass the time. If I had to guess, it would have been a historical romance borrowed from my step-mom's shelves. I'm not sure what my brothers, BJ and Jake, and my sisters, Megan and Chrissy, were doing. Surely in those two and half hours there was bickering and potty breaks and a stop for lunch.
I can't even tell you if my dad had successfully claimed one of the trailers. I don't know if we slept in the big trailer or the little silver one. Maybe we were in a tent. I don't think so, though. My guess is that my family of seven was spread out between the two trailers, my dad and step-mom in one of the big bedrooms in the big trailer, my youngest siblings in the living room, and me and my brother, BJ, sharing the silver camper with a handful of similarly-aged cousins. That was fairly standard.
That particular summer there were a lot of family members on that little acre or so of land. In fact, there even people there that weren't related to us. One family had been invited by my step-grandma; she and the mom of that family had become good friends at work, so step-grandma had invited them along. Funny enough, my step-grandma invited them to the event and then never showed.
They were strangers to me but, lucky for them, not to everyone there. The Heisers lived across the street from my aunt and her family. My cousin, Tonya, was a year younger than their son, Ken. They had grown up together and often shared rides to school. When he got a new camera, he used her as a model to practice his photography skills. They played softball together in the summer youth program in their little hometown, the same program my dad had coached for a few years.
He had likely ridden the bus with my cousins Jessica and Adam before they had moved from the Mayville school district to the Millington school district. Having grown up in a town with a population of about 700-800 people, it was unlikely they had not had some kind of interaction. I mean, there was one ball park and one candy shop. They also happened to live on the same road as his best friend, Kenny.
Surely we must have seen each other before, perhaps even talked, but I have only one memory of Ken from before this rafting trip and I swear we never spoke. I'm not even sure we made eye contact. He was interested in being on my dad's softball team the next year and was talking to him about the possibility. I was anxious to go the game room down the street and was intent on getting my dad's attention so I could get permission.
Fast forward a year or two and he's joining in on our family fun. I don't think either one of us thought much would come of our weekend's mild flirtation. I was fifteen and he was seventeen. I went to Millington High School, he went to Mayville. We never exchanged numbers or made plans to keep in touch.
Two things stand out in my memory about that weekend. First, getting thrown into the river by Ken, who swears my black and electric-blue bathing suit was threadbare and nearly see-through. It wasn't. I'm sure my parents would have said something if I hadn't noticed myself!
The more treasured memory is from when we walked to the store chatting about various things. I don't remember anyone else being with us, but I can't imagine my dad letting me wander off with an older boy; dad had a hard enough time with me talking to a boy on the phone. Surely, my siblings or my cousins were with us. Yet, I only remember walking to the store with Ken. I remember him buying me a magazine simply because my favorite rock band was featured on the cover.
I thought he was sweet. And cute. I didn't think much beyond that, though.
He thought I was too young for him.
The weekend ended and we went back to our respective lives. Had it not been for my cousin Tonya playing matchmaker in the months following our rafting trip, our lives would have turned out very different. I'm so grateful she saw something there that we did not because, next to our boys, Ken's the greatest gift I've ever been given. He is the love of my life and I can't imagine building a life with anyone else.
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