Vacation

It wasn't quite time for me to go yet, there was still half an hour left of my shift, but all the work had been done, the chairs were all stacked on the desks, there was nothing to do but leave. Summer vacation. Outside it rained, but no matter. Freedom is not what appears on the skin; it is what sings in your heart. The bike ride home has never been so quick.

The phone buzzed with opportunities for celebrations; my lazy summer senses regarded them with lackadaisical indifference--Can't be bothered to go so far, I'm on vacation--until a text came from a few blocks away, and I rolled down the hill to see them.

We first met years ago, do you remember? I was 21, you gave me all that tequila and I passed out in an unknown man's lap, I swore my revenge and never got it. The years passed, you smoothed over the rough edges of my dizzy family and moved into my father's speed dial. We spent 14 hours on a bus and you were better company than I could ever have made for myself. We sat in a stranger's apartment, after that concert, and listened to the limited release, you said I think you'll like this one, and I did.
The relationship changed. We refused to let you go and you never made us. You brought home that girl, I loved her instantly, she took all those fights with you I never could bother to, she made you laugh and it made my heart smile.

On your wedding day we joked that she married us all. But biking home those three short minutes, it didn't seem a joke at all. Family is more than who is in your blood; it is who is in your heart.

My life is better, with you in it.