Her voice—hoarse from speaking for hours—was a part of me. Her strong hands, her expressive forehead, her sweet smile—all a part of me, because she had always been a part of me. I had been so afraid that blood would be all that mattered. Oh, how I had underestimated my remarkable aunt.
I have this same feeling about my older sister, the first child of my mom from a previous marriage.
She didn’t grow up with me, because I was born when she was almost 30 years old, she lived 3000 miles away, and by then she had 4 children of her own. But she loved me with her whole heart, and always was 100% family to me.
