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Technically, I have one mother, one father, and one brother (younger, but taller than me. He started winning in arm-wrestling several years back. It’s highly annoying).

But at homegroup I have multiple parents, and multiple siblings.

The little brothers splash and hoot and holler and laugh as they paddle around in the raft, out on the saltwater. The Galways—practically grandparents to all of us kids—have a new house and are having us all over for a barbeque and grand time.

Rowena, Grania, and I chat together. They are both very ladylike and feminine and mature now—I am too, but I’m also a tomboy. We talk of life-things, plays, books, movies, and our summers. Rowena is visiting Washington for five days, and it is a glad time.

Later, we go out on the water. The water is a magnet to me; I can’t stay away.

They paddle in the canoe while I paddle alongside in the kayak. I am pleased; we all get to talk together, but I have my own boat to maneuver. I set the boat skimming through the water as sleekly as a seal. I love the feel of strength in my arms. I love the fact that the ocean is beneath me—an unexplored world.

When we return, the little brothers wash off the boats with garden hose. It will be time to go home soon. They set the hose on high and chase each other around, spraying each other with the hose and dashing away by turns. I laugh—so happy. They are so funny and such boys.

Family. 

 

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