Family

I look at recent photos of siblings from one side of my family, and find that i don't know who they are.  they aren't the kind of boys and girls and women who would stop me on the street or in a room and beg my introduction.  they don't look deep-down happy to be themselves.  they just don't look like people like me.

whatever that means.

i look at old pictures of my children and friends, my lovers and houses, and i find that this conglomeration of differences makes up a mosaic that depicts me.  these are men and women, boys and girls who have come and gone from my life willingly and loved.  in various shades of happiness and alone.  people who have become sisters and brothers, daughters and sons, lovers and mothers to me.

exactly as those are meant to be.

and so i find that family is something that is created over time and choice, not something that is born by blood.