As one may have guessed, due to my constant joking at inappropriate times and failure to shed a tear when I’m expected to—I don’t do well with emotions. Usually, I write someone a note or text message if I need to say something tender, just to avoid looking them in the eye when I do it. Mature, isn’t it? I’m trying to get better about expressing how I feel. Not in a “I cry in a college classroom when I feel overwhelmed” way, but in a “I should probably tell the people I love just how much I love them” kind of way. So here goes nothing.
I’ve never considered myself a lucky person. I’m always oversleeping, tripping, etc. However, maybe karma is just trying to make my life more even with everyone else’s—because I already hit the jackpot. I know a lot of people don’t have a family or a good home life. The fact that I am blessed enough to have a family is lucky enough. But, how lucky am I to have the family that I do? Now I’m sure you think your family is the best, and that’s really cute—but you’re wrong. Think of the most amazing human being you’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Ok, got it? Now multiply that times ten. Then, take that person and add two others just like him or her. There you go. That’s my family. It’s okay to be jealous.
I don’t just love my family because they provide food, money, shelter, and unconditional love, did I mention food? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for that. I am in constant need of a little cash and a home cooked meal; but I also love my family because I like them so much. They’re my best friends. Sometimes I’d rather hang out with them than anyone else. They laugh at me and with me, (mostly at me), they always want to have fun, and most importantly, they know me—the basket case, inappropriate, moody, irrational, borderline rude me—and they still like me (to a degree).
My dad, the “head” of the family, (we all know it’s really my mom) he’s the fun one. He introduced me to humor. He taught me how to make other people laugh, and exposed me to classics like "Saturday Night Live" and "Seinfeld." Through our many rides to school, he taught me how to do the perfect air guitar and that, “If I looked up ‘Rock and Roll’ in the dictionary, ‘Heartache Tonight’ by The Eagles would appear by its definition.” I inherited his personality, whether or not that’s a good thing is still up for debate so he helped me to learn from his mistakes and showed me how to be a better version of myself. I never went through the “embarrassing dad stage,” and actually preferred, and still do, him to be around my friends so I can show off just how hilarious he is.
My mother is my best friend. I’ve always been jealous of those who had sisters close in age, they are always so tight and remain each other’s BFF throughout their lives. Although I never had a sister, (which is probably for the best because we know she’d be better than me), I have that quality in my mom. My mom is opposite of me. She’s kind, thoughtful, sensitive, and puts everyone before herself. If you need something, she’ll bring it to you with ten other things too—just in case. Our personalities don’t really mesh, but we have fun together, and she laughs at everything I say—so I keep her around. We text constantly and talk on the phone at least twice a day. I actually have to downplay the time I spend communicating with my mother just to act like I’m a normal, “cool” college kid.
My brother, AKA the golden child. He is the golden child rightfully so. I’m the older sister so I’m supposed to be guiding him and setting a good example, right? It’s the other way around. He would basically babysit me when we stayed home alone for a few hours when we were younger. “No Addison, that noise wasn’t a serial killer, it was just the dog. Now come into the kitchen I’ll make you a grilled cheese.” He’s insanely talented at anything he tries and is obviously the waaayyy more impressive Arledge child. Despite his superiority, he still somehow manages to act like I hung the moon. He’s encouraging, complimentary, and, he too, pretends I’m funny. As sickening as it is to have someone that perfect as your sibling, I look up to him—and hope he has a guest house I can live in in 15 years when I’m inevitably unemployed with lots of cats.
Family is special but mine is a gold mine. So while everyone says, “Wow I can’t wait to get back to school, my parents are driving me insane!” I’ll respond “Me too! Ugh!”—just to fit in. But know that, internally, I’m wondering if it’s too late to go to community college because my mom washes my clothes and my dad records my favorite celebrities’ appearances on morning shows.
So, family, if you’re reading this, which I’m sure you are because I’ll blow up your phones “subtly” until you do—I love you. You’re the best thing about me, (well, besides my devilish charm and movie-star good looks). Did I mention I need some money?
