1Every two years, my enormous extended family gathers at my grandparents' farmhouse for a reunion that lasts an entire weekend.
2Relatives travel from four different countries, and some of the younger children have never met each other before.
3My grandmother insists on cooking her famous soup herself, even though we have repeatedly offered to hire a caterer.
4The long table in the garden seats thirty people, and we still have to borrow chairs from the neighbours.
5Uncle Richard always brings his accordion, which the children love and the adults politely pretend to enjoy.
6What strikes me most is how quickly the years of distance disappear once everyone sits down together.
7My cousin from Canada told stories about her new job, and my grandfather fell asleep halfway through one.
8Before leaving, we take the traditional photograph on the front steps, arranged strictly according to height.
9These gatherings remind me that family is less about blood than about the effort people make.
10When the weekend ends, the farmhouse feels strangely empty, and my grandmother always cries a little.
11Already, my aunt has suggested holding the next reunion at the seaside instead of the farm.