Family is Where I Come From and Where I Live
Like a tree from the forest with branches that reach for the sun
Family is where I come from and where I live. It’s a place, a state of mind, a crowd around the table and a connection to those I love.
Family for me is a bond grown of blood, kinship and adoption and of people who claim one another. It can be forged easily but the strength of the steel that binds us can be broken. Sometimes mended too, but sometimes not.
I grew up in a family that had two parents and three older siblings. A baby brother who passed away in three short months and left behind a hole in my mother’s heart that would never heal.
It was fresh tomatoes from the garden and a dad who held my hand for longer than most. A mother who baked scones we would drizzle with butter and jam. A big brother who had birds in his room, and sisters who left home as soon as they could.
Roast beef dinner on Sundays and a pew in the Anglican church that we sat in every week. It was gatherings at the cricket grounds to watch the men play and the women gossip. Children danced on the sidelines or ran the grassy meadow beyond. It was people I called aunt and uncle although we were not related in a real way. They shared a country of origin with my parents and that was enough.
