Day 329: My older siblings have done an excellent job of making me feel like I belong, even though I came along a lot later than they did. For as long as I can remember, my sister has been calling us “The Cox Kids.” Even now, when we send a joint gift or flowers, she signs it “The Cox Kids.” The sentiment would make my mom and dad smile.
My dad grew up in the country outside Shelley, Idaho, in Taylor and Jameston, surrounded by lots of cousins. He was always telling us stories about his Cox cousins. But there was another Cox family in Shelley that was unrelated, and they happened to sell honey in Shelley. So, growing up, when someone would ask dad’s last name, he would say “I’m a Cox, but not a honey Cox.”
That meant when my mother married Dad, she began saying “We are Coxes, but not honey Coxes,” and she raised us to say “I’m a Cox, but not a honey Cox.”
The distinction really only makes sense if you are in Shelley, talking to a person who has lived in Shelley for a very long time. No one else gets it. But every time I see the words “From the Cox Kids” in Terry’s handwriting, I silently say, “but not the honey Cox Kids.”
I am grateful, at the end of this Week of Gratitude, to be one of the Cox Kids, and for parents who made us feel like we belonged, even without the honey.
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