I love family. I love them because they’re amazing people. They’re open, inclusive, and willing to change. They challenge me, and let me challenge them. They support my growth with unconditional love; they grow me by triggering my petulant 16 year old self; they support my research into psycho-spiritual paths, and I give my knowledge back to them.
But I love them because I love them. They’re family.
THE OLD STORY
In the beginning there were four in the family. My parents, my sister and I. We moved around a lot, and figured of how to be more fully human together. We fucked up a lot. We loved a lot. We were weird.
Then that story wore out.
The idea of family stopped working.
My parents separated.
My sister went to college.
I moved to Egypt.
Years passed. We each walked our paths. But we weren’t alone. Somehow, through the death of an old family story, a new way of being together emerged. A new story focused around a new kind of love, new identity and new purpose.
My divorced parents, after years of find their new selves, reconnected over a shared identity of family. They welcomed the reunion, and last year we all got to sit together, again. But this time, we were expanded and enriched by new relationships.
Mom met and partnered with a music loving, voice-overing, jovial man with whom she shares endless interests. They live an affable life on Miami Beach.
Dad partnered and proposed to a sea faring, jewelry making, wonderful woman. They live an ocean going life aboard “Meridian.” Their union inspired this video.
Sister met her Italian designer who became my brother last fall. They live in their car driving between their Little Italy apartment and their beautiful refuge on Long Island.
They all discovered their partners they brought them into our new story.
THE NEW STORY
Last weekend, thanks to their generosity, I got to spend a weekend with all of them on Miami Beach.
Most of us stayed together in a studio apartment. We quickly devolved into a dorm.
I hugged my new brother, and took his council.
I welcomed my soon to be step-mother.
I geeked out with my mother’s man, and found a new mentor.
I walked the beach and shared problems with my sister.
I played cards with my mother and let her beat me.
I sat poolside with my father and talked about love, boundaries and hope.
Family is what we choose. Family is a choice, even when it doesn’t feel like it. I’m grateful that my family chooses to find what we love in our new story. And that we don’t all live in a studio apartment together.