Growing up, it was mostly just my brother, my dad and I. We didn't keep much in contact with my mother's side of the family and very complicated reasons, we didn't keep in contact with my dad's two older brothers either. Families are difficult. But we did see my dad's little sister fairly often. We'd spend Christmas at her house a lot, with my uncle and an older cousin. My aunt's like a female version of my dad. And by that I mostly just mean 'very loud.' And her husband was very different. He was very quiet, sort of subdued. Maybe everyone seems a bit subdued around my aunt.
But Uncle S made me laugh. He was really keen on Formula One. Or possibly the American equivalent? Car racing, anyway. And my brother and I would pretend to have an interest in it as well, because it made him happy. It was such a small thing to do, to like something that he liked. He'd get all excited and animated about it all. I love, now, that I have a lot of little memories of my uncle that meant a huge deal to me. A yawning competition when we were out camping once. Having a drink together in a cafe where I kept tipping my glass up and the ice kept hitting my face. A trip to the zoo. Because my Uncle S died a few years ago of multiple brain tumours. At the end, he didn't remember me, and that's OK. Because I remember him.
What I remember most is that everytime he'd see me, he'd sing to me. He'd even get out his guitar and always play the same song. Michelle by The Beatles. I always pretended to be very embarassed. How else does a young, shy girl react when someone starts serenading her? But secretly? I always loved it. And I will always love this song.