Meeting John

Got the 9:02 train from Absecon and met my cousin, John, in Philadelphia.
We talked over coffee; I foolishly chose an iced "frolatta," which tasted good, but contained about six billion calories via sugar and heavy cream.  John then suggested we walk to the long-ago home of one of our semi-ancestors.
This wasn't a grandparent or great-grand.  I think--I wasn't quite clear on this point--it was one of the multitude of cousins of our grandfather.  We started walking, but after about three blocks, I was finding it difficult to keep on.  My stomach was righteously protesting the frolatta, the heat was fierce--ninety, at least, and humid as only the northeast can be--with little shade and no breeze. After we turned a corner and John said there were about eight blocks to go, I told him I'd sit on a step (out of the sun, thank Zeus) and wait for him.
Did so, and that proved to be a good idea.  I sat on my step and enjoyed just watching the Drexel students (the campus is all over the city) walk by, envying their easy strides.  In about 45 minutes, John returned.
I was refreshed enough to walk reasonably briskly back to 30th street with no problem, and perked up when we stopped at an Irish pub for lunch. I had a hamburger and a Harp, John shepherd's pie, and our usual family talk.
John's knowledge of our lineage is impressive and he's also interested in a wide range of sometimes esoteric subjects.  They range from the history of the Celtics to feeding one's blood type to astrology and the bible.
My cuz accompanied me back to the station and sat with me until my train pulled in.  Kissed him goodbye, climbed aboard, and departed.  Picked up my car at Absecon, drove home, and was in my garage by 5:00.
I doubt if I'll ever see John again.  He doesn't travel and who knows when--or if--I'll be back.  Too bad.  As with others with whom I share memories, it's a wrench to leave those who can't be replaced.
And nobody can be replaced.