During a conversation about family with a European friend, he asked me how many cousins I have. I paused for a moment before answering — and that’s when I realised something beautiful about the culture I grew up in.
Where I come from, there are no cousins.
There are only brothers and sisters.
We don’t use a separate word for cousin. The sons and daughters of uncles and aunts are also called brothers and sisters. Even uncles and aunts aren’t separate titles — they’re called big or little fathers and mothers, depending on age. My mother’s younger sister, for example, is my little mother.
Because of this, the idea of “cousins” feels distant to me. Family isn’t split into isolated circles — everyone is part of the same circle. It isn’t about how closely we’re related, but how deeply we’re connected. The culture and language themselves bring everyone closer.