I spent Sunday with my family, not that there is anything unusual about that. One of my cousins, Chris, was in town for 48 hours, on a quick leave from 29 Palms, a Marine training camp. He's currently station in North Carolina and the whole family misses him. He's leaving for Afghanistan in a little over a month so we all want to spend as much time as possible with him. No one in our family has gone to war since before any of us were born. Our grandfather fought in World War II and when my cousin decide to join the military, our grandfather tried to convince him otherwise. But we are all stubborn.
Sunday morning I went to my parent's house. My father made his famous bacon and potato dish. We had white and red menudo. We had orange juice, freshly squeezed from my dad's naval orange trees and lots of champagne for mimosas, beer and love. My sisters came over and my cousin Chris, his sister Cherise and their parents.
The older I get the more I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have been born into this glorious family. We are love and there is no love like family love. I am so grateful for my parents. I am thrilled out of my mind to have sisters who are my best friends. And the aunts and uncles, their wisdom. And my cousins, brothers and sisters for my life.
Sunday night I went out to a local beer bar with my cousins and one of my sisters. They sat across from me and I wanted to cry with the love I feel for them. What a gift. I don't know who I would be today without the family. I am so incredibly grateful.