Jonathan Kirk

English

Period 2

8/30/04

A Relationship by

a Long Shot

I always looked forward to the long drive out to the desert, but not because of the heat- to see my cousin, Daniel. I remember the huge plaster dinosaur on the side of the road, hinting that we were nearing our destination; the forest of white, metal wind-mills, silently alerting us that we were almost there. It was nearly a 300 mile trip to Joshua Tree, and when I was younger I'd make my parents suffer through every minute of it. My cousin was my elder by 4 years, and for that I could not help but to look up to him as my superior, and mimic him whenever I had the chance. I recall driving down that final road on which his house was and as I emerged from the car having the water sucked dry from my mouth and being overtaken by the spare humidity. Daniel always would casually greet me, as would be expected from a relative whom I saw about every 6 months or so. I always wondered, though, what he was really thinking.

Daniel was an only child who's father had left early in his life and by doing so left him alone with his emphysemic mother, my aunt- a smoker for many years. Annie Robin, as I called her, would always greet me in a somewhat sarcastic, but friendly manner. My aunt and cousin rarely came out to visit us, though every once in a while they'd appear on our doorstep. There was not much to do really out there in the middle of Joshua Tree, but Daniel and I tried to make the best of it- and the best of each other. However, one thing we always did was go across the street out into a barren area that fed into a group of large hills, and drive golf balls out into the horizon. Although I was not very good, I stared in awe as Daniel smashed them time and time again out into the distance.

I always did look forward to visiting my cousin, however I do recollect other times when our age difference caught up to us. My immaturity and fear was sometimes too much for him. I recall the time when we took a cruise and my cousin came along. It was late one night on the ship and I was afraid to get hit by a tennis ball when we were playing, and eventually Daniel ended up rolling a shuffle-board disk at me, out of pure spite. Perhaps I deserved it, perhaps he just lost control for a second there, either way there was serious conflict between us at times. In the end, however, we always made up, through either one of us- or both- apologizing. Some of the time, when I knew Daniel was just making a show of his sorries, I felt we'd never really connect as cousins.

Years passed and my grandpa, who also lived in the desert, passed away with them. Never before had I faced my cousin in the midst of the melancholy sense of death as I was about to now. As we drove, once again, to that little home out in the middle of Joshua Tree, I pondered what to say, how to act, how he would act, in an attempt to think out my actions ahead of time, as to impress or at least connect with my beloved cousin. There was not much of a funeral- for we were the only people who saw him buried. I sharply recollect the lot of us- Daniel, my mother, my father, Robin, and I all standing over the pit in which his coffin, hardly a sepulcher of a prominent being of worth, but a just a grave of my grandpa. It was an awkward moment, but one that really stuck to memory. And yet I felt then, more than ever before that I could imagine, that Daniel was my cousin, and I his.

Our next visit out there was about a year after my grandfather's death, I was about 14 years old. I sat in the car in silence as we drove out to that little house in the desert. Memories poured into my head as we passed the plaster dinosaur, and white, metal windmills which seemed to spin by God's grace alone in the dry, calm desert air. Alas we reached my aunts house, Daniel was now living in the house that had belonged to my grandpa. Later that evening, Dan drove out to us. It was only a few miles. We exchanged a few words and greetings, which almost precisely mimicked those of our last meeting, and the one before that, and so on; the only difference now was the pitch of our voices, and hair on our face. We decided to go out and drive a few balls into the desert. I was much better than I used to be, but still nothing when compared to Daniels' flawless swings. Time passed and Daniel threw out a few words, “Hey, try to that wire post out there.” As he said this, he pointed out in the distance to a electrical wire post about 100 meters away.

“There's no way I'll hit it...” I said in disbelief, “but what the heck.” I set the golf ball on the tee, which was lazily posted in the thick sand, and took aim. Slowly I pulled back the golf club and, with all the might I could muster, slammed the white ball in the direction of the post. I tried to follow the ball, but it was hidden in the open desert sky. A moment later the unthinkable happened; there was a piercing crack in the air, and my eyes shot to the wire-post, from which I saw the golf ball ricochet off and descend to the sand below. Daniel glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back. At that moment, and from then on he was my cousin, and I his.

On my last visit out to Joshua Tree, we went to the movies together and saw the third Lord of the Rings movie. We laughed, talked, had fun, as more than just relatives, but also friends. It is just a pity that it happened to late in our lives, and we truly could not cherish our childhoods together as we can cherish time together now. Though our ages differ, as well as our locations and lifestyles, I will always remember the good times, and the feeling I got as I saw the expanse of white windmills in the distance. I hope that he will one day pack his things and move out here with us- there is nothing out there for him in the desert. But wherever he is, and whatever he does, I will always think of Daniel as not only my cousin, but also my friend.