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Spending the weekend at a campground in Wisconsin with my relatives made me realize something important about family.

I’m not sure where it came from, or whether there was a specific moment during the trip that stood out. It could have been looking at my mom and her siblings and the way they all share certain facial features and expressions when they talk. Maybe it was all the embarrassing stories being told despite eye-rolls and pleads from spouses and children. It may have even been everyone’s forgiveness of the select few of us that got crabby after a long day in ninety degree heat. Regardless of what did it, this is what I’ve concluded:

You don’t get to pick your family, but luckily enough, they still pick you.

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