My Family

My family never was very large: mother, father, two brothers, two grandmothers, and one aunt. I had one grandfather, briefly, and then he was gone. Nine people, my whole family.

I just returned home from a basketball game. My six-year-old grandson plays on a city league team. I enjoy watching him play. And I enjoy seeing my family. I was a few minutes late to the game; my dogs had issues this morning and needed me. When I arrived at the game, I took the seat next to my ex-husband, my kids’ dad, and the ball player’s grandpa.

We had a nice visit. He brought me up to speed on how the game was going and let me know that our grandson made two baskets before I arrived. We also agreed that the coach is a wonderful person and has been giving our grandson a good experience in team sports, sportsmanship, and life.

I asked him “where’s your boss?” and he looked at me and smirked. “I am my own boss!” was his reply. I just smiled at him and reminded him that he was only comfortable saying that because she was not there to correct him. It seems she had a difficult customer to deal with; she is in business for herself.

I also wished my son a happy birthday. He was sitting next to his dad, on the other side of him, and we talked among ourselves and enjoyed the game. We are having a dinner party tonight to celebrate his birthday. It will be at my ex-husband’s house. I am bringing the birthday cake. My ex knew exactly how to ask me to bring the cake: “since you make the best chocolate cake in the whole world, why don’t you bring that?” It works every time.

My former daughter-in-law, the ball player’s mom, arrived even later than me. She was in charge of snacks for the team after the game. She walked in carrying several bags of treats. I hugged her when she arrived and we talked about how she is doing. She had surgery recently and is just now walking without crutches.

After the game, I got hugs from the six year old and from his older brother and “I’ll see ya later, Grandma” from both of them. I told the ball player how proud I was of him and he just beamed. He let me take a couple pictures of him but then, he was done with me for now…..He doesn’t realize yet that grandmas aren’t going to be around forever.

I also asked my ex how his mom is doing. She has Alzheimer’s and is in a nursing home. She was my “Other Mother” when I was young and married and having children. She is the one who taught me to cook and showed me how to take care of a baby. And I am the one she remembers. I should be ashamed of myself: she calls my ex’s wife by my name. But somehow, that pleases me. I loved her then and I love her still.

After the game, I walked out to the parking lot with my ex. He has recently bought a new SUV and we were talking about having cars serviced. I told him about the new tire I just recently had put on my car.

For reasons completely unknown to me, I bought the extra warranty when I bought new tires and in January, when one of them blew, I got a new one—free. He asked me why I bought my car where I did, and I told him. As I was discussing my car-buying experience, he was smiling. I know him well enough to know that he was enjoying my story and, more importantly to me, he is proud of me.

Now some might consider it strange that I still consider him family. I would argue the point, if I needed to, but I don’t. Quite simply, we are still related: we have the same children, and grandchildren. Our lives intersect frequently, and we have a similar set of memories. Even though he has been married to his second wife for 25 years, there are things, experiences, that he and I share that she does not know about. I am one of the few people he can talk “old times” with and I know all the places and characters.

And the computer: where would I be without my computer?

I received an email this morning from a “brother” of mine. I have adopted him because he is special to me. Too special to just be a friend. He also has a lady friend, and I am happy for them both, but he is my friend, too. And so, he is my brother and I am his sis. I have three online brothers, actually, and they are as good to me, and as thoughtful of me, as my “real” brothers are. I just met one of them in person about a week ago. It was wonderful: I already know him and he knows me; we just had to catch up on what each of us is doing.

And I have a sister, too. She is the friend, confidante and partner in crime that God didn’t see fit to give me in real life. There was something about her to me and me to her that just clicked. We have had similar experiences in the past; we cry together, share secrets together, and laugh together. And, more important than that, we talk about clothes and shoes and accessories and boyfriends. I have talked to her on the phone many times. Even though we are “of a certain age,” when we have exciting news to share, we have been known to scream like a couple of teenage girls. I couldn’t ask for a better sister.

And my “real” baby brother sent me a message this morning, too. Actually, he is in Southern California this weekend, visiting his daughter at college. She and I “talk” to each other on Facebook. My brother used her account to post a message on my “wall” in Facebook. It was nice to hear from him. And it has been nice to connect with my nieces and nephews, too.

Family. I don’t need to look up the definition; I know what it means to me. It is having people in my life who are important to me. Whether we are “blood relatives”, connected by the proverbial six degrees of separation, or we have just made the conscious choice to be related in some special way…….

We are family.