This week, my cousin Dale (the one with the crazy curls) came over with my new bed and helped set it up. What a sweetheart! He does stuff like that for me all the time.
But that’s Dale. I don’t really think of him as a cousin, he’s like a brother. We are the same age and our parents are best friends. We have been stuck together since we were born. Our cabins were close to each other when we were babies and when we turned seven our parents decided to build cabins right next to each other.
We ended up spending each summer together. Every day! The poor guy. He was the silent sam to my loud lucy. He didn’t need to talk, I talked for him! Again… poor guy.
I don’t see Dale as often anymore. He lives with his familiy in the country, and I am in the city. But when we are together we are as comfortable with each other as when we were kids. I know we will always have this special relationship.
Dale has helped me whenever I needed it. When my mom and I tore up my backyard to build a patio he called out of the blue to see what I was up to. When I told him, the first thing out of his mouth was “Do you want help?” He then drove an hour in to the city and slaved away with us in the 34 degree heat to finish. It only cost me a couple of beers!
He helped build my fence too and one of his legs ended up in a three foot post hole… twice! That story still breaks us up.
That’s what you get with Dale. You get a guy that is always willing to help and usually a funny story to go with. He never disappoints.