More often than I care to admit, I find myself feeling like the same child from the family I was born into—the little sister and daughter. Recently, this feeling was particularly strong. With my children at camp and my partner away on business, I shared a meal with my father and brother. Just the three of us, the remaining members of our original family unit, it felt achingly familiar. We reminisced about family vacations, our late mother’s culinary mishaps, and the unforgettable life of our beloved family dog.
This wasn’t the first instance of nostalgia for my original family while navigating my own. I vividly recall calling my mother from a payphone during my honeymoon. I was excitedly discussing wedding details while she urged me to fully enjoy my time with my new husband. Although I cherished our moments together, the comfort of that call drew me back in time.
Years later, on the night my son was born, I was filling out hospital forms. When I mistakenly wrote my mother’s name under “mother’s name,” the nurse gently reminded me, “You are the mother now.” I grasped the concept—sort of.
A few months after, I sat by my mother’s bedside as she succumbed to cancer. She encouraged me to return home and cherish my husband and son—my own family. It seemed she understood my role better than I did.
Perhaps the gentle nudges from my original family to step into adulthood only intensified my desire to retreat to my roots. I’ve heard stories of grown children feeling overwhelmed by familial obligations and choosing to escape. My mother often spoke of providing us with roots and wings; I had the roots but needed stronger wings.
Over the years, I’ve felt my wings expand. Despite the lessons from Peter Pan I absorbed as a captive audience member, I have indeed matured. I still instinctively reach out to my father for advice on car maintenance or insurance, and often consult my aunt about clothing purchases from the dressing room. Yet, I now feel most at home in my roles as a wife, mother, and capable adult in my own family. It took me a while, but I’ve arrived.
My husband, kids, and I have created our own family traditions, travel stories, and favorite meals (though we still don’t have a family dog despite my daughter’s pleas). We are a complete and, I dare say, happy family unit. I count my blessings daily, and while it may sound cliché, it’s genuinely true.
Whenever the opportunity arises to reunite with my original family, I embrace it. I’ve come to realize that it’s perfectly acceptable to cherish both the memories of my past and the moments I share with my own family. That, in essence, is what adulthood is about—along with those progressive bifocal lenses.
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Summary
Navigating the balance between one’s original family and the new family one creates can be a complex journey. Reflecting on past experiences often provides comfort and guidance, while embracing new roles as a spouse and parent is essential for personal growth. Ultimately, cherishing both family units enriches one’s life and strengthens bonds.