They are the only ones who anticipate me. I am the only one who wrestles them. Two anxious cousins with constant movement and loud voices unlike mine. Two who want me with them to follow them. Two crazy children planted by their parents. From across the house, I can hear them, but the rest of the party trades aces, kings, and queens.

Their energy is endless. They send toy cars across the hall. They stand up and they sit down and take my things with their messy hands and try to retrieve them when I take them back and never cease their excitement. This is how they can sleep.

They live off the joy they get when I come over, and I wish they could sit like birds on powerlines for just a few minutes. Bronson, Bronson, Bronson they yell when I enter. They’ve waited.

When there is a holiday or a birthday, when it’s a blazing hot day and time to go swimming, then it is I see my cousins. When they leave their favorite toys they showed me at my house. Two who grew restless and curious. Two who scream for me and do not forget about me. Two whose only reason is playing with me and me.