When one thinks of the holidays, one often imagines grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins gathered around a full table, exchanging laughs, gifts and love. For me, holidays were often spent out to dinner with my parents, sometimes with the occasional friend if they were not busy with their own family. Then, I would come home to a quiet house, watch TV and go to bed, just like any other night. I never had a big family experience, and I feel it helped shape who I am today.
I have one direct aunt and one direct uncle, neither of which live near me, and neither of which I speak to outside of the obligatory birthday phone call or check-up. I also only have one set of grandparents, but they live three states away and hardly know anything about me. Therefore, to cope with the lack of familial bonds in my family, my parents used to address anyone close to us as my aunts and uncles.
In my family, aunts and uncles can be from anywhere: my dad’s college roommate, my parents’ best friends and even our lawyer. I have adoptive grandparents: my dad’s best friend’s mom does not have any granddaughters, so I have been treated to spa days and shopping trips with her ever since I can remember.
However, the person who has had the most impact on my life is my best friend. We have known each other since we were two years old, and we like to say we are cousins instead of sisters since we have never fought like sisters often do. Because I have known her for this long, I have assimilated into being part of her family, and her parents, cousins and grandparents have become my own.
When I show up at her house unexpectedly, her sisters erupt in cheers of joy. Her grandma would often cook something extra for dinner for me, both to accommodate my dietary restrictions and also to guilt me into staying for dinner. I have been invited to go out with her and her cousin, who lives within walking distance of my house. When introduced to her boyfriend, my parents were referred to as her aunt and uncle; I later clarified that there was no direct relation, we were just that close.
No matter how close I am to my non-blood family, it is painful to remember that they are exactly that: not blood. Knowing that I grew apart from my childhood best friend still stings, especially since her family was like my own throughout elementary and middle school. While there is no bad blood between us, seeing one of her aunts occasionally like my Instagram story is a fond reminder that even if someone is no longer a prominent figure in my life, they are always around in some way.
So yes, it does make me a little sad that I am not close with almost any of my blood relatives. However, whenever that hits me, I remember all of the people who have taken me under their wing and shown me the love that my parents show me every day. Anyone can be family, regardless of their genes, and I would not change anything for the world.
