My aunt recently had a milestone birthday and last night we had dinner at our family cottage to celebrate. As much as I admit to having some absurd personality traits and a slightly off-center sense of humor, I realized my apple does not fall far from my family tree.
The conversation flowed freely as we all caught up on the relevant stories in each other’s lives. Lots of laughter was shared and the dialogue eventually focused on funny stories from the past, as it always does. Though the tales have been told many times and in many ways, they never get old. These stories are the thread that binds us, the string that weaves through the fabric of our relationships. Spending time with these people is home to me. I am never more myself than I am with this crazy circus I call my family and I am happy to be one of its monkeys.
After spending a couple of hours around the dining room table, the summer solstice sun began to make its descent into the horizon. The waning orange glow reflected on the water and we made our way out onto the screened porch to watch the evening sky struggle to hold onto the remains of the day. For a moment, no words were spoken. We were enveloped in a comfortable silence as we watched the sun disappear. A single voice broke the silence, more stories bubbled to the surface and the darkness of the evening was welcomed by our laughter.
As the saying goes, you don’t choose your family. But if I were given a choice to go back and make that decision, I can’t imagine choosing any other people to go on this journey with me. Thank you monkeys, you fill my life with love and laughter.