I have a family, on my mothers side, that consists of two people. There were more in the past, but the Scotts have all but died off. See, we never had many to begin with and most of them were old or affected by the many wars this country fights domestically and abroad. From this tired mass of people I sprung whole. Now they are all but gone and I am nearly alone.
I have another family, the one I became a part of when I married my beautiful wife. They are thriving and young and energetic and welcoming and something I am proud to be a part of. Yet in me the two sides war. There is what I and and what I have and somewhere inbetween lives a 3rd family.
The third family is composed entirely of friends. I have a number of friends, but a few ring like family. They have been there for me forever in the hardest times and in turn I would gladly step in front of a bullet to make sure they had one more good day on this Earth. This is how you are supposed to feel about family, which is how I know they are family as well.
There isn’t much of a point to this other than to recognize that we all construct family based on perceptions and need. I glommed on to my wife’s family because there was nothing left of mine, which in turn made me less committed to the remnants of the Scott clan. Before that there were friends, and even now I continue to add friends to the family as though they are the ever-growing base from which my emotional support stems. Friends can be family, just as easily as those with whom you share the same blood. Sometimes friends are better than that, because at some point you chose to bring them in. It was never forced upon you.