My Family is the Best
My family had a sit-down dinner the other night to celebrate the birthday of my brother’s fiancée, and it reminded me once again of how truly blessed I am. I looked around the table, and among the friends gathered there, saw three unique people smiling back at me.
First, my mother: a woman of incomparable compassion. My mother feels so deeply and cares so fiercely that she is the greatest empathizer I know. When I was younger I used to see her easily provoked tears and think of her as fragile or emotionally unstable, but getting to know her as an adult has made me realize that what I often viewed as weakness is actually her greatest strength. I must admit, however, that I still occasionally make fun of her for averting her face from the merest hint of violence on TV or in movies. My mother’s heart is beautifully vulnerable and achingly tender, and she simply cannot abide violence.
Meeting my father’s crinkly eyes across the table, full of mischief and amusement, is an entirely different experience. If my mother is the pinnacle of profundity, my dad is the soul of frivolity. We used to call him the Pun Master 5000 for all the ridiculous play on words he would come up with, anytime and everywhere. There isn’t a single car ride I’ve shared with him that does not include some bout of spontaneous singing, with made up on the spot lyrics that are mostly nonsense but wholly entertaining. My dad is truly a gem in the rough and I love him wholeheartedly.
My brother is perhaps the most unique of all, but the hardest to describe. Suffice it to say he has his own outlook on things. He is the a totally honest person , and while he’s a freakishly skinny stick of a man, he is still my favorite person to hug when I’m feeling low.
Are they the best family in the whole world? Probably not. Are they the best in my world? Absolutely.