They say that our friends are the family we choose for ourselves. This idea has never been as true or as clear to me as it is right now.
Like many Seattle folks, the families we grew up with are back at "home home". Or, in other words, our original hometowns or somewhere near there. We see our relatives a few times a year. We go back there, or they come here. We visit, and then we come home. Our real home. Here, in Seattle.
This is hard. It's sad. I miss my family terribly, and some days are harder than others - holidays, special days, celebrations, the low days, the I-need-someone-to-come-and-hold-my-baby-for-two-minutes-before-I-go-insane days.
But we've adapted. We create new traditions, our own traditions. We lean on our adopted families, the ones we've chosen for ourselves. And they lean back.
We celebrate Tim's birthday with barbeques and beer and sunshine. We gather around the Thanksgiving table, and we give thanks for lowkey holidays involving good friends and sake. Someone hosts Christmas every year, and everyone is invited. We plan Wine Club...ahem, Book Club when we just know that one of us needs a little love. We do brunches and walks and pep talks. We do arguments and bitchiness and forgiveness. We do love and support and gift-giving. We do wine and weddings and camping and babies. We do tears and laughter and honesty. We do what needs to be done. We give and we get and then give some more.
Because we are family.
P.S. Thank you, ladies, You know who you are. Plus I'll probably tag you on Facebook anyway.