Kelsey Breseman
3 min readJun 4, 2024
Photo by Eileen Breseman

When I arrived in Pelican, family members greeted me all excited about the coming baby. I have an aunt in town, her son and his wife, their two daughters— now preteens— and various other cousins as they come and go on fishing boats.

We see the girls just once a year, when we're up here, which is like watching a flipbook of kids growing up. They were putting together a jigsaw puzzle one year, excited about ballet another.

Last year, they showed me how they could hang on a pull up bar and how to do the line dances they had memorized. My circus tricks have not yet failed to impress. I'm not sure how old they think I am, but they are always shocked the number is so high.

The girls are very excited that I'm pregnant, especially the younger one. When we cross paths at her grandma's house over the course of our visit, she asks a series of blunt questions, especially when the "adults" aren't in the room: "What will you call the baby?" "Where will the baby be raised?" "Why do you call your dad Rick?" "Do you like the way your parents raised you?" "Who's that in your phone background?" "Are you and Robert ready to be parents?" I don't discourage her.

On the boardwalk, Rick is contributing to the construction of his sister's cabin. We all come out to help hang the front door.