Family is a funny thing.
Me: “Hey mom. Did you know that this yogurt has agave in it?”
My dad: “AGAVIA!” sung to the tune of the Activia yogurt commercials
My family is a funny thing because they’re funny.
The older I get, even just by the day, the more I appreciate each of them.
Jamie’s dry humor.
Dad’s tight hugs.
Mom’s constant nurturing.
I spend Sunday’s, after church, with my family. I pick Olive up from my house and bring her to “grammy and grampy’s” to play with Shilah, their persistently naughty lab.
I bake apple crisp for my dad and use baby-talk to make attempts at communicating with my 23 year-old brother. I do laundry and watch movies and lounge in front of their pellet stoves.
I soak up all of the love and the home that is in that house.
Since I’ve moved out and as I live life on my own, I’m learning more and more how deeply the roots and bonds of family run. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
The work of family is messy. There are shouts and tears and bruised egos. Yet as messy as it gets, it always ends up all that more lovely. And there are hugs and kisses and laughs and bound-up hearts.
Family is a funny, funny thing, but it may be the most important thing.