There are some things I won’t try and explain and even more things I try less to understand. Like how a silence can be louder than a whisper, and why being alone can make one feel less lonely. The other is family and what it means to other people. My family are my friends, and friends are family, not always is it a case of blood and less is it realised that it’s not a case of birth. Family is what roots you to a place or a way of being, what might provide a pool of memory or has influenced your reasoning over the years; a taste in music, values, and so on. Who knows – but really, a family is where you feel like you belong.
Where being yourself is expected and not tempered or adjusted to conventional settings.
Convention goes out the window within family. They know you best and that’s the feeling of rootedness, where all words and actions you emit don’t actually impact the setting, just gives it flow.
I’d like to think families are grown, just as memories come into existence organically, but I know it’s not that simple. Families never leave nor do they wane to the realities of the current, they are always there whether you want them to be or not. I like the idea of “family” I just do wonder if I live the ideal. That’s all.