Heaven

I never realize how much I like my family until I've been away for a long time. There is a certain flavor to them, certainly an acquired taste, that can be bitter. But, like so many chocolates, it's a bitter that, after a long time without it, you long for.

There are, of course, the relatives who can't stand each other, and the ones you wish you could spend all your time with. Passive aggression goes without saying, in as many forms as can be thought of. And then there are the parents with the obvious favorites, who of course love everyone equally.

I am repeatedly reminded at these family events of how perfectly graceful my sister is in the ways of social behavior and conversation. I've always liked to think that I brought light to the party- when I have to admit it's continually been her. She just knows what to say when, and how to make everyone laugh while I just sit by her whispering snide remarks into her ear.

In the same way my brother always derives so much joy from the food so lovingly made by my grandmother, and then from being alone watching Sports Center- and I don't mind, but for that then the rest of the night is spent with my mother trying to pull my brother into the party and my father and sister trying to calm everything down to make it enjoyable.

Holidays are always stressful, but worth it. Because without these people the holidays would feel very empty, and very boring. It's hard to describe why being with my family is heaven- but something about being squeezed into a tiny room, gathered around a single ukelele, singing Bob Dylan songs out of key and trying not to wake grandpa is so funny and great to me, it makes me hope that heaven is just as unexpected in it's joy and goodness.