A few weeks ago I wrote a column about the comfort of belonging.

Specifically, I was writing about the comfort we sometimes get from belonging to a group.

I mentioned the good feeling of a being part of a group where we know we are always welcome.

I was writing about the comfort of a church group where it’s a “feel good feeling” to know you are part of a group that finds meaning in helping others.

In that column I also included the joy of a friendship where people who enjoy the same thing like socializing together on a regular basis.

This week I’m writing about a deeper, more meaningful joy — specifically the joy of family.

From the time I was just a kid I was tuned into the joy of having a supportive family. While I knew I had experienced some bumps in life at an early age when my parents divorced and my father went on to a new family, I knew with all certainty that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because I was one lucky chick.

I was that lucky chick because of my mother’s extraordinary family.

I knew that neither my mother nor I would ever be alone with our problems. Her four sisters and my many cousins were always there to give us support and any help we needed.

I knew how blessed I was to have them in my life.

What I liked best about my aunts from the time I was a young kid was how they always made me feel special.

I can remember being 6 or 7 years old and getting a royal reception when we went to visit my aunts.

“Sit right here and tell me what’s going on in your life,” invited my aunt Theresa.

I always had stories to tell, stories that made her laugh.

Sometimes the laugh was on me, but I didn’t know it, All I knew was the good feeling of having my aunts hang onto my every word.

“Tell me where your mother works,” invited my Aunt Theresa. Completely guileless, I told her my mother worked in the Pit-in Pan. I had yet to master the S sound, so “Spick and Span” came out sounding like pit-in pan.

My aunts were supportive of everything I wanted to do, encouraging me to sign up for the talent contest at Knoebel’s Grove.

They clapped and told me I sounded wonderful when I sang “Chickery Chick, cha-la cha-la.”

Their encouragement led me to enter the contest. Like many youngsters I was a small, cute 5-year-old and threw kisses to the judges, cementing the first place award that gifted me 10 silver dollars. That was a fortune to me.

Then I was even richer because all four of my aunts gave me money for winning.

Years later my cousins told me the truth. I couldn’t keep a tune. I won only because I was young and tiny.

When I didn’t know better I kept singing and didn’t know I always sang off-key until I had children of my own. That’s when the church choir director asked me to stop singing. I don’t think God finds fault when we sing his praises.

One of the many things I loved about my family was all the fun we had when we were together. We truly enjoyed each other and there was always a lot of laughter every time we got together.

And get-togethers were at least once a week, sometimes more.

Every get-together included the most delicious Italian food. I was quite a skinny kid, and my relatives kept putting incredible Italian meals in front of me to encourage me to eat more.

My Aunt Mary thought it was unfair that I could eat so much and stay skinny. “When you get older you won’t be able to chow down like a starving kid,” she said.

She was right, but fortunately I didn’t know it back then.

My mother and her four sisters combined to give me 14 cousins, mostly girls.

That meant I was one of the best dressed kids at every prom or big event because my cousins all had “open closets,” meaning I was welcome to take anything l wanted.

Here’s a story that tells how close we cousins were. When a kid in school was having a big birthday bash my cousin Buddy wasn’t invited. My “popular girl cousins” refused to go without Buddy. The birthday girl gave in and invited Buddy.

I could fill a book or two writing about all the good things my girl cousins did for me.

My cousin Marie walked home from high school every lunchtime to make lunch for me when I was in grade school. Looking back at how far she had to walk to come home, I realized she had very little time to eat her own lunch.

The sad news for me is that my aunts and my cousins disappeared a little at a time, going home to their heavenly reward.

They are all no longer here — but they are not gone. As long as my memory remains they will be with me.

I know I’ve always been a rich kid, rich in family and rich in memories. Because of that family I’ve led a rewarding life.

The gift of a loving family has always sustained me.

Everyone lucky enough to have a caring family is truly blessed.

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net