Family isn’t just the people who relate to us by blood or by law. Those people are a given, and we don’t really have much of a choice in the matter. For that matter we don’t really have a lot of choice in any of our families, they seem to choose us. Family are the people you love enough to keep a caring eye on even when you’re mad at them, the people whose love you never need question, the people who will always show up. It’s not something that happens by choice, and after a while people just become family.
Family are people like the closet case ex-boyfriend who you can’t help worry over, and who will always need a hug. Like his little brother who you look after, even though you’ve never spoken to him. Like the girl who would seem to be the unlikeliest match in the world, but remains constant. Like the compassionate and neurotic gay mobster who is always forgivable, it’s his ex-boyfriends who may not be as forgivable; it’s his asshole brother who really does have an ounce of good underneath it all.
It’s the guy who’s always up at two am and willing to talk about life, loves, and Linux. It’s the best friend who you love but can’t and won’t for years to come. Your best equal. It’s the friends who manage to change with you and still remain refreshingly grounded in a shared past. It’s the only person with enough balls to stand up to you, and still match you move for move. It’s the friends who still invite you to sing, despite apparent tone deafness.
Family is these people and more. In some ways it’s all of their families. When you think about things that way the world doesn’t seem like that big of a place after all.