I’ve
never been alone. I am covered in
family, an overabundance of sibs and assorted other relatives. I even worked at a profession for
thirty-something years that afforded me little privacy.
I
know, I am blessed, but . . . I envied the only child, the sequestered nun, Tom
Hanks in that movie about the island and the basketball.
For
years I drove to and from work in absolute quiet, reveling in the brief
solitude of my very own space, no one talking at me, breathing my air, or
demanding conversation.
Don’t
get me wrong. I love my family and my
friends, but I also love being alone. When someone complains about being
lonely, I offer them a few dozen of my relatives. They thank me thinking that I jest, but I am dead
serious. My family will cover the whiner with their effusive love and dizzying
attention, and before long, the lonely soul will see my side of it (and long
for silence and a space of their own).
What
defines family? Do you have to live
under the same roof? Do you have to be
related in some way? Is there a minimum
number of people to be considered a family? I am not talking about the cold
definition for family that one finds in a dictionary or in the IRS 1040
Instruction booklet, but something that encompasses all the different
constellations within our homes.
Why
can’t a household with one person and a pet (or pets) be a family? What about two people who live together,
related or not, married or not? Why
wouldn’t they be a family? We lost the
Ozzie and Harriet family a long time ago, and what we have now is just as valid
and just as comforting.
Come
on, I know you cried when Tom Hanks lost Wilson in Castaway. Tell me that
didn’t feel like family.
I love this post. I always say that family is who you love. I have some dear friends that are family. And my pets are family, too.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Suzanne. I agree. Family is who you love. Love ya,
ReplyDelete