I do not know how it is for most people (and cultures), but for me, I relate family to late summer afternoons. It is usually during the summer break when either I used to visit my cousins and aunts or they used to come over. Every summer was one to look forward to.
Here in this darkened room where curtains dance with the persistent light from the outside to the draft of a cooler humming in from the window it blocks in some corner, keeping the ruthless summer along the edges of this house full of ten people or more – silent, well-fed and sleeping they are but something wakes me up. I assume it usually is a gulp from the bottle of water that has sweat itself over the table by now because someone forgot to put it back in the fridge.
They sprawl in threes and fours, the women and the kids; probably because this rest came unplanned though was foreseen as they fell asleep while chatting about the heavy lunch they had had. I glance over their calm faces, lost in their own dreams and worlds, they will never be this carefree or silent when together and awake. It is like a congregation they are participating in but one which no one else, not even they themselves, but only can I spectate..