Waiting For That Rocket

Seven years ago I wrote of family for the HuffPo. My family is nigh everything to me. My sisters, my brothers, my in-laws, my pseudo-parents, etc., etc.. I wouldn’t trade one of them for the world. Heck, even when I was a child I recognized how good I had it with my brothers and wouldn’t have traded them then either.

Everything there remains true.

Then I had a eureka moment a couple weeks ago. A lot of the folks I call family I call chosen family. That family is tremendously important to me no doubt, but then I realized I have a couple siblings who I don’t use that qualifier. I’m looking at you Hippo and Tall. You aren’t “chosen” family you’re just family.

I feel so lucky and blessed to have these sort of semantics present themselves in my brain at any given point. You all are pretty swell.