I grew up as part of a big family, with my dad being one of five children. My Oupa and Ouma, aunts and uncles and a string of cousins gathered at every occasion we possibly could – always together – as far back as my childhood memory would take me. They were happy days filled with love and laughter.

Then the cousins grew up and started families of their own, and all of a sudden everyone found themselves in different parts of the country, tending to their own spouses and children.

This Easter weekend the Marx family reunited for the first time since my Ouma’s funeral – many, many years ago. I looked forward to seeing everyone, but didn’t quite know how it would be to spend the entire weekend away with people who have ultimately become strangers over the years. A Sunday lunch might’ve been a good start, but as everyone came from far and wide, three days it was.

And how lucky we were – from the get go these jovial, kind, down to earth, solid, good people that I am so lucky to be calling my family made every moment one to treasure. Everyone was exactly the way I remembered them and slotting back into the welcoming, loving, happy zone synonymous with these people during my childhood came as natural as breathing.

It brought a sense of belonging, a realisation that no matter where life takes us, where we come from will always be a part of us. And how fabulous when those memories that have almost been forgotten are brought to life again with new ones as pleasant as those from yonder years.

Before we knew it, time was up and we promised it would not be as long before the next reunion.

Until then – Marx mense, baie dankie en baie liefde. Dit is vir my die grootste voorreg om deel te wees van ‘n groep mense so stupendously fantasties soos julle!


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