You Don’t Have to Have the Same DNA to be Family
I grew up in California. My mother’s family lived in Kansas, so visits were infrequent, about every 18 months. I loved the time I got to spend with my aunts, uncles, and cousins, but each visit highlighted how much we had all changed. Eighteen months felt like an eternity when growing up.
We were estranged from my father’s side of the family, so I didn’t see them at all.
Our family was fortunate to be very close friends with the Hodges family, who lived in our neighborhood. We attended church together, so we saw each other there frequently. Beyond that, we were inseparable on many other occasions.
Nearly every Saturday afternoon, we would get together, and most of the time that afternoon blended into the late evening. The men would tune up their guitars for an evening of pickin’ and playin’, while the ladies would set out cookies or other goodies to munch on throughout the day. There were 3 kids in my family and 6 in the Hodges family, making a total of 9 kids—just enough for a softball game! We would run down the block to the high school softball field, wiggle through the loosely chained fence and play ball for hours. Toward the evening, we would straggle back and find dinner waiting for us. Sometimes we would find the moms in the kitchen making a batch of homemade ice cream. This meant we kids got to take turns sitting on the churn or turning the crank until the Best Ice Cream Ever was ready for us to enjoy. Other times there would be a sing-a-long with the adults and kids all joining in, or just the adults while the kids watched horror movies. (Am I just misremembering or did Randi really throw a blanket over my head during the scary parts?)
The Hodges extended family also lived out of state, so it was natural for us to spend many holidays together. Every July 4th, we spent the day at a local park, playing on the playground, having a picnic in the evening, and watching. with awe, the fireworks at night. Christmas afternoons were filled with luxurious laziness after the hustle and bustle of the morning. Memorial Day found us camping at Big Bear, where we kids ran as wild as we dared.
I can’t remember a time without the Hodges family in my life. They were all very special to me, but I was closest in age to one of the boys, Randi. He is two years younger than me, but even so, as far back as I can remember, he was my protector, my encourager, and one of my best friends.
During our camping trips, as I scrambled up huge boulders, he was always right behind me, ensuring I didn’t get hurt. When we went water-skiing, he cheered me on every time I fell. Playing softball, he would coach me whenever I missed the ball, whether it was a missed swing or a missed catch. We lived 4 blocks from the church. When I was in Jr. High, sometimes I went to a special program on Wednesday nights. There was one program for girls and one for boys. If we were both there, Randi made sure to walk me home, so I didn’t walk home in the dark alone. He was the younger one, but played the role of Big Brother for me; and I loved him for it.
About the time I left for college and moved into a dormitory, the Hodges family relocated to a different city. Consequently, during my visits home, I no longer had the chance to see the family on a consistent basis.
Life takes us on different paths, and time keeps moving forward. Over the years I’ve seen various family members at weddings, celebrations, and funerals. I’ve stayed in regular contact with Norma (or Mrs. Hodges as we called her when we were kids)) over the past few years. The last time I saw Randi was about 25 years ago… until this weekend.
Randi and I reconnected a month or so ago, and he came to visit my husband and I this weekend. As we reminisced about old times, shed tears for those we’ve lost, and caught up on our lives, it felt as if not a single day had passed since we last saw each other.
My husband, Rick, and Randi, found they also have a lot in common; their love of travel, history, books, and magic. They also talked for hours and could have talked for more if I hadn’t kept redirecting their conversation. 🙂
If I didn’t know it before, I know it now. Family is not just about who you are related to by birth, but about who you choose to share your life with. There’s just something special about someone who knew you as a child who now also knows you as an adult.
Our families are entwined, both in the past and the present, by choice, not DNA. But we’re still family.