when he died, everyone in the entire town showed up at the back door with fried chicken. Everyone.

We don't have family here. We have friends who feel like family, who I want to be their family and I want them to be mine. You need family, even if it isn't your actual family.

A cousin had some scary brain-and-spine surgery a few weeks ago ...a cousin with twin 3-year-olds. I made dinners. I drove them over. Another cousin lost her fiance in an awful traffic accident. I - okay, well, again, I brought over food. Maybe I'm sort of one-note about these things, but dammit, you need food.

Here is a pie. And a casserole. It's not exactly the same as cans of Alpo, but it feels like the right direction. I will bring food and come and sit with you.

Sometimes I wonder if I like doing it so much because of sheer disgusting self-righteousness, but I don't think that's actually it.
It's an honor.
It's an honor to be chosen and trusted to be part of someone's family.

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