Back from a great weekend with family in one of the most beautiful places on earth. In the glow of my big brother's identical laugh, Maggie's kind and gentle beauty, nieces laughing, handstands in the pool and local wine at the tops of mountains, I realized: family is made up of far more than blood, it is made of an infinite collection of the tiniest of moments just like these.
“It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the
foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched
out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven
mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of
potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon
of time.”
―
Jack Kerouac,
On the Road
Back from a great weekend with family in one of the most beautiful places on earth. In the glow of my big brother's identical laugh, Maggie's kind and gentle beauty, nieces laughing, handstands in the pool and local wine at the tops of mountains, I realized: family is made up of far more than blood, it is made of an infinite collection of the tiniest of moments just like these. 
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