These Are My People

I’ve been thinking about friendship. I remember my first friend that wasn’t family, our parents were friends when we were in diapers and so we really had no choice but to love one another. We were in the same classes up until she moved when we were in the 3rd grade, and my security was rocked. I made new friends throughout the years, but they eventually faded away.

My first best friend though, and still to this day, is my sister. We even had a handshake. Although we are 6 years apart, somehow we truly have been blessed with an unbreakable bond. And it is the same for my 3 brothers. I see other siblings who aren’t that close or fight constantly or don’t even speak at all, and I am so thankful for the friendship we have with one another. God gave us siblings for a reason, and I think we have done a good job at hanging on to that, even in adulthood.

I was the youngest out of 4 for 7 glorious years. The 4 of us are 2 years apart. I remember how upset I was when I learned that my torch would soon be passed on to my baby brother. I think for the first few years of his life I wouldn’t have minded if the stork decided to fly off with him, but these days I can’t imagine life without little Wibby Wobby and his too-smart-for-you self.

We are the only ones who can make fun of eachother. If one is late for a family gathering, you will receive a thousand texts on your whereabouts. (Except if you are the oldest, we all know if it starts at 4, she will be there at 5.) And if one doesn’t come at all, it feels incomplete. I’m thankful for my people. I realize we aren’t meant to live life without our people. Do you have them, and who are they to you?

They give you the best advice because they have been-there-done-that more than twice. They don’t accept your new love right away until they see they can laugh with the rest of your people. Unafraid to voice their opinion. They pick you up and take you to Starbucks at 10 pm when you’re mad at mom. When dad hurts you again, they call him back and take care of the rest. Because no one hurts your people unless it’s a brother putting you in a chokehold. They are the ones in your group text. The ones you send funny Pinterest messages to that only they’d find humorous. They are the ones you want there at every milestone. They are the ones you don’t mind seeing you act like a fool. The ones you can reminisce with however far back in life you want to go and they were still there. They bring up old embarrassing stories of you in front of new people. They remember your old Aunt Ethel and her whoopy cushions. They give you nieces and nephews and make your heart fuller. The ones who know your insides and outs and know the core of you, the real you. Because they’ve known you since birth and they’ve seen every shade. Even when you lose yourself for a moment, they don’t just wait for you on the other side, they go along for the ride. They see your ugly mistakes and they love you through it. They are constant. Willing to stick it out regardless of who you become. And when you hurt, they hug you until you cry. And when you cry, they don’t mind the snot and tears on their shoulder.

Sometimes they are blood, sometimes not. But for my people, our blood runs thick. We are different yet the same. Always there. These are my people.

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