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“I don’t think it would be the same.” I tuck the blanket tighter around Audrey, making sure she’s toasty warm. “Dogs are probably way less adorable when you’re the one who has to feed and walk them all the time.”
She angles an eyebrow at me. “You still think Coco’s adorable.”
That is a fair point, but I still don’t think my mother loves Coco the way Audrey thinks she does. “Also, my dad would lose his shit.”
My dad doesn’t dislike Coco, but he’s not obsessed with her the way my mom is. He’s more indifferent to her existence. Is that an indication of how he’ll be with my kids in the future?
Probably not. He’ll likely be right next to my mother on the porch with his own bag in hand.
Because now that I’ve stopped being certain of all I thought I knew about my family, I’m seeing that my parents and siblings aren’t what I believed. Do they talk less than I do? Absolutely. Istheir demeanor a little more closed-off? Unquestionably. But do they love me any less because of it?
I can honestly say I no longer believe that’s true.
They might not understand me, but I’m starting to think maybe they don’t have to. They love me. They accept Audrey. They support us and want to spend time with us.
And maybe that’s all I should have ever asked for.