Sometimes you show up to your mother-in-law’s birthday party and a man in snakeskin boots plays his turquoise guitar and sings beautiful, original songs to a room full of flush-faced, middle-aged women who hug each other and smile the way only old friends do.
And you stand outside in the crisp fall air and chat with people you haven’t seen in years, or those you’ve just met, and realize this is what it means to be a part of a family. And even if you’re mostly on the outside looking in, and even if it’s just for a couple hours on a windy Friday evening, people are happy to see you and stop what they’re doing to talk to you and hand you glasses of wine, and you feel contented and warm.
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