As the children of a single working mom, my brother and I did not always have bragging rights to a Disneyland adventure, a Grand Canyon trek, or even a Six Flags Over Texas trip, complete with heat exhaustion. What we did have, though, were thirteen cousins living within a seventy-five-mile radius and plenty of space to run wild beneath the summer sun.

My Mamaw and Papaw lived on the family farm between Lovington and Hobbs and always welcomed their grandkids for summer visits or in today’s vernacular, a staycation. These were the days when “entertainment” was leaving the house with a handful of saltine crackers from Mamaw, cousins in tow, and the order, “See you at lunch!” There was never a moment I felt luckier or more loved than when I happened to get one more saltine than the others. Surely this meant I was Mamaw’s favorite.

The farm was a menagerie of unexplored adventures if you had a curious mind like mine, or in the case of my brother and favorite cousin Alan, a mischievous mind. The boys left Mamaw’s with not only the requisite saltine cracker snack but a fully loaded BB gun. It may sound like trouble, but the only time I remember it being a problem was the day the boys startled the laying hens and scattered them. Apparently, hens do not lay eggs when they are traumatized. Those boys could barely sit after Mamaw’s reckoning.

It is interesting how the cousins navigated our joint adventures. In our summertime escapades, dares played a big part. I am pretty sure cousin Tommy in his thirteenth year of wisdom introduced the open-ended challenge, “I dare you to ______.” Just fill in the blank and you can understand the idea that dares usually ended in juvenile fistfights, name calling, and sometimes even tearful threats. Survival was the name of the game, and survive we did.

A particularly curious activity that still surprises me today (and actually scares me looking back), was playing on the big, white rock pile. This was more of a team building activity in that we were always in turmoil over who was the boss of the rock pile: the girl cousins or the boy cousins. The only real threat to our safety was the family of rattlesnakes residing under the huge pile of sun-warmed caliche rocks. We did not bother them, so they did not bother us. Yet another life lesson learned.

After a full morning of exploring, it was time for a lunch of fried baloney sandwiches with Miracle Whip and a side of pork and beans. Naps were non-negotiable since Papaw ALWAYS took a much needed farmer’s nap. I longed for the day to be one of the older cousins who just had to rest their eyes, not actually sleep. I now understand that a midday nap can make the afternoon the most productive part of the day.

At last, we ventured back outside. Afternoons in Southeast New Mexico can be real scorchers. As far as the cousins were concerned, irrigation ditches were ideal for beating the heat. I can still hear the constant drone of the gas-powered irrigation pump sending a steady rush of fresh water into the ponding area. The big cottonwood tree shaded the pond and created an oasis-style pool to be envied by the best Hilton hotel guests. With no lifeguard or adult in sight, we played with tiny tadpoles and ditch frogs until our bodies were tanned by the sun and Mamaw yelled, “Dinner time!”

At the end of a full day (and a full belly), it did not take long to learn the value of an early bedtime. It is funny how sleepy we could feel until, “Lights out!” was ordered; then it was giggle time. We knew we could push the two warnings from Mamaw, but when Papaw would yell, “Am I gonna have to come in there?” we knew then it was really bedtime. At an early age, I understood that following instructions worked in my favor.

As the summer months drew to an end, heading back home was always a tearful departure. Our staycation never lasted long enough. We still had forts to build and ditches to claim. As all staycations eventually ended, the conclusion of our time together had come as well.

If you are one of those families that still reunite as adult cousins, remind each other of those early life lessons garnered from independent playtime. Thank your cousins for their help in shaping your sense of belonging. Be grateful for the summer bonding that only cousins or neighborhood best friends experience on the way to adulthood. Most importantly, appreciate your cousins for being a better than decent shot with their Red Ryder BB gun and not peppering you.