My Family Is Loud And Full Of Love And Passion

My family is loud and full of love and passion, and the kitchen is always filled with laughter and people on the verge of yelling. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I like the idea that this all seems normal to me, but an outsider might cringe and hold their ears and stick up their noises and think the cacophony is too much. The first time I realized my family was the way they were was when I got married. Before then I hadn’t really experienced anyone else’s family. To be honest I never really thought about it. But now I know. I had a friend in college who could name the sounding pitch of any note just as easily as identifying that a fire truck was red and the ocean is blue. And he used to tell me that for the longest time he thought everyone could do the same thing. I assured him that wasn’t the case.

I think I’m a little infatuated that the family I grew up in painted the way I see everything. And who has a different story? Nobody that I’ve ever met. If you grew up in confusion and chaos maybe you’re more apt to see things through that lense, or maybe you’re more apt to see everything but that. Regardless of where you end up, your family shapes your thoughts and your attitudes. I grew up thinking that my family was the best, that the way they did things was the best. And maybe the older I get I realize that isn’t always true, but I don’t really care, because it feels right.

The other night we’re sitting at dinner and I’m having a political discussion about healthcare in the United States vs. healthcare in Spain with my grandparents on my mother’s side. They are Spanish and speak a little English, but not enough to keep up with the subject matter. No more than I can keep up at all speaking Spanish. So my aunt Beatriz, my mother’s sister, is translating the whole conversation. And in the midst of all this people are blurting out other things, some that have to do with the conversation and some that don’t. It’s not uncommon for my family to be having three way conversations all at once. And while it’s probably not the best way to communicate and can be a little chaotic, it feels right at home and it feels like love.

This Christmas my family is staying at a house on the beach in Florida, and tonight on Christmas Eve three of the toilets on the house stopped working and black muck started rising through one of the shower drains. I’m on the phone with the owner and doing my own research on local 24/7 plumbers, while Fallon is in the kitchen making her very tasty spaghetti sauce, while my mom is holding Jackson, while the rest of the fam is outside having happy hour. The plumber comes and the owner is beckoned to the house, and we lift the lid on one of the septic tanks and voila it’s all full. So now the task was trying to get someone to pump out the septic on Christmas Eve. Didn’t happen. And you know what? Everyone went with it and we still had such a fun night. Not to mention my sister isn’t even here, because she broke her ankle and her and my dad stayed home in Illinois, where it snowed tonight. Even with the septic tank fiasco, and them not being here the night felt complete. Because my family is loud and full of love and passion, and that’s what feels right to me. That’s what feels like love. And no matter what happens, no matter if shit is coming up through the drains or the ice machine is breaking, or there is sand in your bed, if the kitchen smells like spaghetti sauce and the air is filled with laughter and three conversations at once, happiness is alive and blooming.