Maybe it was the way I perfected my messy bun this morning on my 3rd try and felt a weird sensation that I became another spoonful like my sister. Or the way I found myself reading articles on the presidential race and needing a conversation with my brother to debate a few points. Or maybe it was how last night when it began to storm I thought “Rayne is coming” and this morning my brand new niece was born 24 years following my own entrance into this world. But I was standing in my kitchen, staring at the date on my calendar, the date of my birth, thinking about what 23 meant for me and what 24 will become. Thinking about how 23 was the year I felt selfish more than anything else. Selfish because I needed to be with the people I love as much as possible. Selfish because I was leaving those people for my own adventure across the world. Selfish because I didn’t have another person to share the world with. A weird word for someone who is a PCV, I know, but work with me. Anyways I was in my kitchen staring at my calendar thinking about how it doesn’t feel like a new year or a new age or a new anything, even though I’m in this new world. And trying to figure out how to barricade myself from the mental hole I was about to dig into. When I realized the best thing about 23 was my family.
There is not much that could stop me in life because they are there to cheer me on. To give me the harsh truth and the riveting debate. To be my wedding dates and dance partners. To bring up embarrassing stories and argue my side without prompting. To indulge in Cousins Karaoke. To mail me black beans and scribbled drawings from my nephew. To tell me christmas carols weren’t the same without me. To love me unconditionally. To tell me they’re proud of me for following my dreams. To make me smile. Even from 8,198 miles away.
I love them for it. Because without the first 7 months of 23 completely inundated with visits home and family vacations and my favorite recipes, I might not have had the confidence to make it through the last 5 months away. Because what I learned at 23. What I truly cemented into my head. Is that no matter what adventures I take or what continent I’m living on or what the time difference is, my family is there for me every step of the way. And they will always be there to welcome me home.
And that is what really matters.
Whatever 24 looks like or whoever I become in the next year doesn’t need to scare me or keep me up at night. In the end, I’ll have my family.
