Family of choice

There's blood family.

I'm an orphan, although no one feels sorry for a 72-year old orphan.

I have myriad cousins that I have limited contact with. No problems, just geography. Facebook allows for messages and when anyone comes to Europe we try and meet up.

My brother and I have birthday-greeting contact, although his daughter, my niece, and I share on Facebook regularly. She's a nurse and just starting grad school. 

My daughter is my closest blood relative and despite an ocean between us we have regularly exchanges that could be anything from hourly to weekly, depending on the busyness of either or both of us.

I also have my family of choice.

These are people with whom I've shared things so deeply over the years, that they go beyond what the term friend implies.

These are people I would do whatever I could to help if they needed it.

These are people with whom I've laughed with, cried with, worried with.

These are people I've been silly with.

These are people I've can be alone with in the same room and it creates a feeling of peace.

These are people who accept me with all my quirks (head shaking is allowed) and I accept theirs.

This hit me rather strongly when I was talking with my former neighbour and Syrian friend that is definitely a family of choice member when she referred to Rick as her brother-in-law.

Having family of choice members is like a stone skipped  into the water creating circles that reach out beyond me creating ever-widening concentric circles.

In a world that can often be cruel, loving is priceless.