Blood is Thicker than Water

The living room converted into a dance floor for the night was empty. Those who had danced like they were having an epileptic fit were exhausted, their feet burning and aching. The party was coming to an end, and the conversations were growing tired and the guests try hard to keep their eyes open. As the minutes passed, very few remained. It was only family and a handful of friends. The DJ didn’t stop the music, but instead of the loud music that made one’s heart beat faster, he now played soft oldies. The slow music played for an empty dance floor.

Then the birthday girl’s aunt walked to the dance floor and started slowly swaying to the music. Her eyes must have been closed, as she enjoyed the music. Maybe she was remembering the day she turned 19. Maybe she was blocking out the noises of the world, or life.

Her husband tells his brother-in-law, “Look at your sister. She’s dancing alone.” His voice isn’t kind.

The brother smiles slightly. He walks to his sister and palms together, one hand on her waist, he dances with her. The minutes pass and they both continue to dance, until they are tired. Once again the dance floor is empty.

Family cares. No matter how difficult they are. Sometimes it’s exhausting to live up to their expectations, trying not to disappoint them. Yet, it is only your own blood who would dance with you when no one else will. It is only people who have at least some fraction of the same blood as you who would be there, always. Friends say they will be there, but they won’t. They never care enough. They can’t care enough.

My cousin and I have a place we call, ‘our spot.’ The front steps of the place I call home give an almost blinding view of green; grass and plants. These steps are where our greatest secrets have been shared, where our greatest fears have been voiced and where the memories have been fondly remembered.

This is the place where we ended a story with, “back when we were in school,” only to laugh at the fact that it was only one year ago. This is also the place where I told my cousin of the great unhappiness that takes over when I least expect it. This is where my cousin has told me about her friends who make it so difficult to be friends with and the same place we discussed how disappointed we were by the latest Superman movie.

These front steps have been made ours that it feels like betrayal to sit there with someone else. It also feels like betrayal to the steps if we have a serious discussion at some other place.
Our spot is special because it is where we mostly feel like sisters, not just cousins. It reminds me that when things fall apart, and friends leave, sisters stay. Some people don’t understand why cousins are considered siblings. This is because they haven’t had such special cousins. Maybe their cousins were distant or maybe, they were not the right people to talk to.

Simply put, family matters. They will cry for you when you are in pain. They may not understand you, but they will accept you. And they will try understand. They will suffocate you with their presence, but that’s how love works; it suffocates.
Most of us spend our youth trying to run away from family. Yet, can any other outing be better than mother-daughter or brother-sister time? Can anyone replace a family member?

I’ve heard my grandmother saying that blood is thicker than water. I used to think there were exceptions. It made sense. We choose our friends, but not our family. Yet, at the end of the day, when all hope is gone, when you are lost and scared, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. And this light is called family.

Free- The Nation

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