The family is a constructed idea. So is the language that we use to describe our family. Biology is a construction. Science and history are bizarre and intangible and unknowable and shifting. The greatest fabrication is the family history, rivaled only by the personal history. It is all one big defecating machine duck.  

I haven’t gotten around to asking my mother about this man. I find it strange how often I fall in love with these long dead family members. 

This is Agnieszka Kanownik. She is my father’s distant cousin. I met her once when i was in New Jersey. She was kind. Her sense of humour is dry and she has a thick accent. She insisted I come by her home so she could cook for me. I am sure her cooking is superior, but I am afraid I still have not tasted her cooking.