Familia

If you're blessed you can probably count off a few non-nuclear, surrogate families you have accumulated over the years. I certainly can, and I am proud to say that my family is beautifully colorful.

On Friday night I found myself at the going away dinner of two sister friends from Barcelona who have spent the past 2 months living in New York. We'd taken the long route to the restaurant, winding through crowded pedestrian streets. The two of them ambled as they tried to absorb everything they'd gained, sifting through what they'd take and what they'd leave behind. I recognized that look of gratefulness and extreme sadness, acceptance and denial. It's the same face I wore during my last few days in Buenos Aires.

Sitting at a table of 8 close friends their tears finally came, brimmed up and released by cheeks swollen with laughter. And they didn't stop for some time. A Korean friend leaned over and asked me how to say "I miss you" in Spanish. We spoke the phrase back and forth to each other a few times, her pronunciation becoming more acute, and then she asked me to write it down. "Te echo de menos" in Spain, "te extraño" in Central and South America. Five minutes later I saw that same napkin half way across the table, being passed from person to person, receiving an additional etching with each turn. Japanese characters, Korean phrases written in both the Roman and traditional alphabets, a drawn map of Barcelona, nicknames embellished with fat curly-cued letters, "te quiero" and other Spanish endearments littered the page. After many squeezes I eventually poured myself into a cab, satisfied knowing that our linguistically limited yet fluent family will have an autumnal reunion in Europe. Can't wait.

I woke up early on Saturday and headed to Connecticut to see another family of whom I am an adopted member - the Iranian and Trinidadian blood relatives of my tall beauty of a friend, Tisola. The last time we'd all been together was for her wedding. Yesterdays celebration was in honor of her baby bump. 8 months in she was beaming and hilarious as ever, guffawing about a "pregnant lady" shoot she'd just done with Nigel Barker in which he had to ask her to put more clothes on. Typical Ti.

In true Iranian-Trinidadian style, a flavor they've perfected over decades, the party was long, loud and belly-busting. Surrounded by prodding Aunties I was ordered to "eat, eat, eat!" while they questioned why I am no longer with my ex, a talented photographer who took pictures of the wedding in Tobago. After the third go-round, I realized what was going on. They'd wanted him to take pictures of the shower but had not asked him because of me. Sweet and wholly unnecessary. In that moment I realized that I was, that I am, family...that they want to protect me and see me happy. In this family that means steady beaus, white gowns and, eventually, bumps.

Ti's Grandmother touched my flat(ish) stomach and wished upon me a baby of my own. Though that's not for me right now, something about feeling her wrinkled, regal hand resting on my belly made me drink the Koolaid, if only for a moment. I have to admit I "tried on" a little girl of about 4 who looked like she could be mine, supporting her on my knee as I stroked her hair and let her play with my necklaces. That's the thing about family - though we might buck against its traditions we often find ourselves eventually tamed, or we create our own renditions. Call it biology, call it societal conditioning, it's really the basic need to give and receive love.

Next weekend I am going home to see my original family - the one that gave me life, made me who I am and made it possible for all other families to form.