Family

I remember it like yesterday. I was invited to Chuckee Cheese for her little sister's birthday. My mom bought her a Thumbelina VHS from Avon, the line my mom used to sell. The video was probably just as expensive as any of the other presents because Avon overprices things, but that's besides the point. She looks at my mom's gift and says, "That's it?" with a look of horror. Her mother quickly sushes her. Literally: "Ssshh." I just stared with all the colorful balls and paper tickets blurring in the background, while she took center stage.
The other day I had the experience of inviting them over as my guests. For the first time in my life, these people were in my house. I wasn't the one tip toeing into conversations, twiddling my thumbs or getting forgotten next to the heater for forty five minutes while having to pee when playing hide and seek at 8. They were in my hippie house, of course. So she says, "What's up with the pool table in the backyard?" I chuckle and tell her that it was my housemates' idea. "Oh....I guess it fits with the overall (pause) feel of the house."
 My cousin hasn't changed much, I guess. Whether she was 9 or 24, it's the same disdain for things beneath her. But one thing has changed: I've stopped envying her and that side of my "family."  They came to a place that has come to be an emotional refuge for me, where people have healed a lot of my wounds through their genuine love, candor, simplicity and support. So that while the paint on the porch is chipped and our walls stained, our backyard a collage of tarp, chipped pool table and wood, our inner world is radiant. With all of them standing beside me, I heard her disdainfully raise her nose and completely check-out at my bbq, but this time she was the one blurring in the background. My friends who have become like my family took the spotlight and so did my mother, who used to stand at the margins of their conversations during Christmas.