My mother’s uncle lost the ability to walk as a child due to Polio. When I was very young, all my cousins and I loved spending time with Uncle Bob and simply accepted that his legs were different than ours.

One day while out shopping with my mother, I spotted another shopper who had a wheelchair and very excitedly started tugging on my mum’s hand and pointing. She braced herself for my childhood wisdom.

I jumped up and down and practically shouted in excitement, “MUMMY! He’s got legs like Uncle Bob’s!”

My mum still tells this story many years later; she said the man’s grin could have lit up the world.

While I grew up in California, I have lived in Washington for the past 35 years, so I’ve grown unaccustomed to the California heat. While visiting my sister and her family, I find that the constant heat is making me feel very tired.

I’m having a conversation with my adult niece, and the topic turns to travel and weather differences, and at one point I say, “Do you know what makes me tired?” Without missing a beat, and with a completely straight face, my niece replies, “Being awake.”

While that wasn’t at all how I was going to end that sentence, I had to concede that she had an excellent point.

(I am visiting my cousin and niece at their house. They are in the kitchen while I am in an adjacent room.)

Niece: “Daddy, can I have some ice cream?”

Cousin: “Sure thing. Don’t tell anyone else about this, okay?”

(At this point, I need something from the kitchen, so I walk in, just as my cousin is opening the freezer and taking out an ice cream carton.)

Me: “Hey there, [Niece]. What are you doing?”

Niece: “We’re getting… nothing from the freezer.”

(She held her arms out, as if to block me from seeing my very tall cousin prepare an ice cream cone.)

(I am attending a family dinner at my grandmother’s house for her birthday. My nephew is trying to keep himself entertained by talking with everyone. At the moment he’s talking with my estranged great aunt.)

Great Aunt: “So, [Nephew], do you know what your daddy does? Your mummy won’t tell me.”

Nephew: “He’s a drag queen!”

Great Aunt: “WHAT?! [Sister], is this true?!”

Sister: *who has been talking to my grandmother* “What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

Great Aunt: “That your husband, [Husband], your husband, is a drag queen?“

Sister: “No, he’s a drag racer on the weekends. He’s an accountant during the week. [Nephew] probably got them mixed up. He likes watching the lip syncs on that drag race show.”

(My great aunt looks beside herself in horror. I decide to add to it.)

Me: “It’s a shame. Having a drag queen in the family would be great.”

Grandmother: *looking at [Husband] in the kitchen* “He’s got the legs for it.”

Sister: “Oh, I know! Those legs are like steel. But he’s clumsy as f***. He trips up on air!”

(The rest of us laugh while [Great Aunt] grows redder in the face. An hour later she gets up to leave. She doesn’t say goodbye or anything.)

Me: “What’s her problem?”

Grandmother: “She’s always been a b****. When [Great Uncle] was discharged after being outed, she cut him out of all her family pictures. I decided to return the favour, but mailed her all the cut outs with her eyes stabbed out.”

(This is how I learned how my great aunt came to be estranged. While my family is crazy, it’s nice to know most of them have good morals. I also learned my nephew’s favourite drag queen was Peppermint, who is also my favourite.)

(My sister has recently worked up the courage to kick out her abusive husband. The only problem is that he needs help moving his stuff to his new flat, but he doesn’t have a car. Being the nice person that I am, I offer to drive him there, and my teenage niece tags along so I can drop her off in town later. After a long, uncomfortably silent journey, we get to the flat. The husband basically bullies me into helping carry his stuff inside, but my niece manages to convince him to let her stay in the car. She’s on her phone. I grab some stuff and go up to the flat, feeling unsettled by the husband’s sullen silence.)

Husband: “Put that box just in there.”

(I do, and turn just in time to see him close the door. Although he has always been friendly toward me, I’ve heard what he’s capable of, and am understandably nervous. He insists on showing me around before I leave. I agree, but soon come to regret my decision.)

Husband: “…and here’s the bedroom.” *he gestures toward the far wall* “There are two old biddies next door, who like each other very much. I used to turn the TV up at night, but now I just sit and listen to them. It’s quite funny.” *he starts to imitate moaning noises and squeaking*

Me: *freaked out* “Right… Well, I’ve got to go now. [Niece] is waiting in the car.”

(He just stares at me.)

Me: “I’ll just let myself out.”

(I practically flee the building, and scramble into my car, creeped out. My niece looks up from her phone for the first time all day, looking at me with mild interest.)

Niece: “I can’t believe you went with him. The number one rule of staying alive as a young woman: Never go into a flat with a strange man, especially without backup.”

Me: *laughing nervously* “Oh, I was kind of hoping you’d be my backup. Just out of interest… How long would you have left it before coming after me?”

Niece: “I’d like to say ten minutes…”

Me: “But?”

Niece: “Realistically? Probably when my phone ran out of battery.”

(Needless to say, I was not impressed.)