What it means to be a family

I was looking at the pictures of the four of us on the beach on Saturday and it hit me really hard: we are a family. A real family. With a boy and a girl and two happy parents and a full life. Up until this moment, I knew we are all of those things, but it was separated in my head. We have a boy. We have a girl. We are parents. We have a good life. We are happy. That photo mixed them all together for me for the first time: we are a real family now.

Which must be what my parents felt like 30 years ago. And bam! fast forward 30 years and those children that made up your happy family have multiplied and grown (and likes to have brunch together on Sunday mornings in Georgetown).

Families multiplying is too much to think of now, but every once in a while I get a glimpse of Poppie and think one day you too will feel like this towards your beautiful daughter. Or I see Finn watch his Daddy with adoration and think one day you too will be a man that your son will admire and look up to.

Life is so precious.