My paternal cousin and I were born October
1952, 12 days apart. There’s an ongoing joke  

between us about the christening gown
passed down to female kin. When it came time  

for her baptism, her mother said
my mom didn’t relinquish it.   

I love when my cousin retells this story
every year on her or my birthday.  

We laugh, reimagine what happened
to the gown passed down through 5 daughters  

in my dad’s family of origin, and many cousins
born before us—Dad the second youngest of 10 siblings.  

Both our mothers gone now, hers 19 years ago,
mine 6. So many things we long to ask them—  

questions we never thought to voice
when they still drew breath.