Cousin Mary

A week ago, my aunt took a tumble in her bedroom and ended up breaking her left arm right below the head of the humerus. It has been painful and is severely restricting her ability to care for herself, so her daughter Mary came from Maryland to be on mom duty this week.
I so enjoy the rare times I am with my cousin.
I was an only child of five when Mary was born. I was old enough to have language and feelings and memories that are still in my head. During those first couple of years, she felt like an extension of me, only prettier. She was delicate and ladylike while I was rambunctious and curious. Her skin was very fair, almost pure, not like mine that browned in the summer sun. She had beautiful white blonde hair, and I had golden curls. She was a work of art, and I loved her.
Sadly we didn't get to grow up together. Both of our families moved away from Wilmington, hers to faraway Phoenix and then to other places North and South, and our paths crossed only when our mothers could visit.
During those times when we have been together as adults, I notice how much we are alike. One important thing is our children. She has four sons whose ages (though younger) are spaced apart like my four sons.
Once when we hadn't seen each other for about ten years, we met in a lobby and were dressed almost identically. We even had the same color toenail polish.
I sat with Margaret this week so Mary could go to the grocery store. Among the items she brought in was a big box of kosher salt that she said she will take back when she leaves. I did the same thing in Florida in May! Today as we were ending our visit, I caught a glimpse of us together in the wall mirror. We are the same height and about the same build now, and were dressed in the same casual style, unadorned with accessories. Our haircuts are similar, but she colors her white hair a very light blonde while I color my gray hair a darker shade of blonde. Her skin was still much lighter than mine. (And I think I am very white!)
Because I am older, our memories are different. I was seven when our lives parted, and she was just out of toddler years. She must not have any memories of me except for later when we visited, but I always remember how it was to be a child and have this awesome cousin I loved so much.