I like this.

New Season...

New Blog design...

New Rachel??... (again!??)

Last night I went to my first Broadway show- Pippin. Walking out of the theatre I was completely mind blown. Putting aside the amazing talented singers, dancers, actors (all twirled into one) and body twisting, fire throwing, triple flipping amazingness- I think.... I might be Pippin?! I know I'm not a boy and last time I checked I'm no Prince but as I sat there in the audience I could have been Pippin singing on stage (if I could sing).  Pippin is on the quest of fulfilment... one thing leads to the next, which leads to the next and he truly believes he must live an extraordinary life because "there has to be more than this". Well I hear you Pippin! 

I am travelling into my 6 month of something more. 

As I walked home the other night I thought about my 6 months here, is it long? Is it short? Is this real?
It still feels like a dream. It doesn't feel that I actually packed my suitcase and boarded a plane away from all I knew. But it fits. Life in New York City fits so wonderfully. When I walk through the streets,  meet my friends, hail a taxi or look somewhere familiar to eat... it just fits.

Fall has begun. A brand new season with so much beauty. And I like this time. 

I still haven't figured everything out yet. I don't know when I will. But I know I'm closer and I am stumbling across some wonderful opportunities and some wonderful people.

So when you find you've steered off the track or perhaps you took a wrong turn, it's never too late to turn around and pick another path that looks even better or grab some bricks and lay your own. 

Why keep walking down the path with holes and dog poop when you can see a pretty one across the lake?

Jump in, swim across... and see what that other path is .

 As Pippin's Grandma would say....

"Less thinking, more living".

xx

"New York may not be for life, but life for now"

We all know the story of Harry Potter. And because of Harry we know about Daniel Radcliffe and because of Harry, Daniel will have a hard time being anyone BUT Harry. It's who he is known for, it's why he is known, it's what people see and also what they want to see. So how does Daniel become someone other than Harry?

He starts again.

As you grow and morph, it is often hard to shake the skin that once formed your being. Who I was at 5 was not who I was at 10 and who I was at 15 was not who I was at 20. Sometimes people see the face, hear the voice and it is one of the same. And occasionally, when looking in the mirror, you don't see the difference either. Life keeps moving, whether we're ready to move or not and judgement is a funny thing. People will begin a sentence with "ok, no judging but...." and others say "I don't care, I'll judge..." and whether good or bad, people form opinions and from those opinions, words and actions are created. 

Moving countries (towns, cities, schools or workplaces) undoubtedly provides an opportunity to begin something new. Sometimes thats precisely the reason we do move. That is... IF you're ready to be something new. Making friends in New York has been like getting dressed in the mornings with no mirror. You're not sure what you look like to these people, how you sound (have you ever listened to a recording of your own voice- do I really sound like that?! Ugh!). Is that a mask they're wearing or is it real?

I spent a lot of my childhood in rural Tasmania, I made my friends when I was 3 years old and when I returned for high school at 15, my friends introduced me to new friends, and from here, everyone became a link to someone new. I always 'knew' who my new friends were and they 'knew' me. There are not many 'brand new' people in rural areas and if they are, everyone knows who they are. When you date someone, you will most likely know all their ex girlfriends. You break up and you'll probably know their new girlfriend. There are links within links, within links. And this can be a nice thing and an annoying thing. When I lived in Sydney, a similar story happened. While Sydney isn't small, with 4 million people, 'making friends' wasn't a brand new beginning. Again, I had links within links. 

Whats your point Rachel?

My point is. You're never a clean slate. You are who you are 'known' to be. And when you're ready to morph and grow, it can be difficult to do this, it takes time. Moving to New York, I unintentionally became a clean slate and something I didn't realise until only last week. Sitting with a friend around her kitchen counter, sipping on our second glass, we began talking about the parts of me I hadn't spoken about before. For the past 2 months, our friendship was in the present. What we brought to the table was our connection on traveling, New York and Australia. We hadn't ever needed to unpick our pasts because they were irrelevant, we knew we wouldn't hold any links in the past to each other- so why discuss it? I wouldn't know the school she attended or her best friends best friend. As I spoke about my family in Australia, my friends and where I went to school... she was surprised. The 'idea' of who I was to her here, was not the same as the words I was speaking. She had been certain I was some rich private school girl, sheltered, educated, with no grey areas. I wasn't sure whether to blush or hold back vomit. I was now operating in a world with connections I have made and with connections that remain because of me. It got me thinking. We really are what we are. Not who we think we are. And to watch our thoughts. The thoughts we form of the people we meet and of the people we think we 'know'. And it reminded me... you can be whoever you want to be Rachel. 

Sunday the 22nd of September marked 5 months in America. And it is only just now that I am finding my running feet. I had a friend visit from Australia this past weekend and as he observed New York from his eyes, I felt like I was listening to myself several months ago. There was an underlying love for the city but a little of "yeah but I don't get what the big deal is! It's loud, so many people, it's dirty, there are homeless everywhere...". And I know I have said each and every one of those things. New York and I had a love hate relationship. As I spoke with my friend, most elements of New York were being compared to Australia. And again, I could hear myself. In my first month here I remember sitting around a table with my two American guy friends, M & R. We had cooked food and I was picking up the bottles of food expressing my outrage at the ingredients, Ranch dressing in particular. I would kick off most sentences with "Well, in Australia..." and then all of a sudden M turned to me and he said, "you can go back to Australia if you want you know". It felt like he had just thrown the Ranch dressing in my face. What did he mean by that?! Why would he say such a thing? But 5 months later... I get it. Quit comparing, because it just ain't the same. Never will be. Never should be. And that's why I'm here, that's why we're all here. Because this crazy chaos is a little like a lullaby. New York City has its trash in the streets, its homeless on the corners, its steam flowing out of the subways, the cracks in the sidewalks and horns that fill the air. But thats.what.its.all.about. There are men and women who spend their lives living out to sea on boats in the ocean or on isolated farms in the middle of the country. These landscapes all differing from one another, but those who choose to live there... call it home.

You cannot compare yellow to green or stones to water. It makes no sense. And I'm fast learning that you've got to be some kind of crazy to keep the pace in this city. Crazy in love that is. Because this isn't a medicore city. This is a hurricane of chaos that will knock you flat if you're not strong enough for it. And as a result of this... you're not going to get a good reception from fellow New Yorkers when you want to chat about "the stupid trash lining Manhattan streets" or "the food is just bad here in America" because those little elements are what form the lining of the streets. The noises, the chaos, the yelling and the horns. And by attacking that, you're attacking them. And I've seen the defensiveness of New Yorkers when they hear it. You may as well look at a picture of their child and tell them it's ugly. You'll get the same response.

10 years ago I sat on the sand, looking out across the ocean. And now, I can sit on the concrete and look out across New York City. This concrete is my slate. My brand new slate.

 And right now... I wouldn't change a thing.

So in the words of my dear friend "New York may not be for life, but life for now". 

xxxx

you.have.no.idea.what.is.about.to.happen.

"I'm a little concerned that I will always be a wandering gypsy... is that bad?". 

This has been a reoccurring conversation between my friends and I of late. The discussion of living abroad in America but the looming reality that this isn't actually our 'home' country and there will come a time when it's time to board the plane and go 'home'. But what if I'm not finished wandering? Does wandering have a time frame? Or is wanderlust a personality trait? Over a wine in Little Italy on Saturday night my friend opened up, "this might sound silly but I guess I came here to find myself...", that doesn't sound silly I thought, and I said "isn't that why we're all here? No one travels to the other side of the world in search of nothing... we are all looking for something". 

Last week I celebrated my 24th birthday, 24, twenty-four, tweeeentyyy-four... thats old... right? I know, I know, you're only as old as you feel but 24 is 24, I'm not 18 anymore (well, thank goodness for that).

Birthdays are a challenge. no matter where you are. no matter who you are.

There is always an element of pressure to have a good day, because... it's YOUR biiiiirrrthday! Things that wouldn't normally bother you, bother you and people you don't usually hear from, you hear from but all you really hope for, is a 'good' day and if you're lucky, a 'great' day.

Well, this year, for 24, I was in New York City. Who would have thought, a year ago when I celebrated 23 at Dee Why RSL, I'd be in New York City for 24.

Well I was.

I was in New York City... I was in New York City... I was in New York City...

I don't think I'll ever get used to saying that. 

I was a little nervous this year. A long way from home, a long way from my friends and my family who always put in so much effort to make it a 'great day'. Would that happen here? Would I have a great day? I sent a text to a friend back home with the words, "I really don't want Sunday to come, I just want to skip it". I was placing big expectations on this year and I was feeling like the grinch wanting to cancel christmas. But I just took a breath, let it go and decided what would be, would be. 

And you know what, I think this year may have been the best birthday weekend I have ever had. 

On Saturday I spent 9 hours with my two amazing friends, one Australian and one Columbian. We danced, jumped, laughed, smiled, sat, sweated, drank and looked at each other in awe at the realisation we were surrounded by thousands of others who had travelled to this one place, Randall's Island in New York City. We were at the Electric Zoo music festival, a festival unlike any I've been too. People dressed in the most outrageous outfits, wearing the most inventive costumes I've seen, but all this craziness created a space where you could just be who you wanted to be. Dance the way you wanted, jump, swing, twerk, whatever you want- this space was yours. We were here, we were one of the thousands. And I realised, as I looked at these two girls... I was begining to make another shiny safety net. I blogged several months ago about how hard it was, leaving my friends from home as they were my shiny safety net, always there to catch me when I fell. But here I was, completely thankful, completely blessed to be next to these two girls to bring in my 24th year in New York City.

These are the days we will look back on and think "gosh I wish I could go back". Each moment is something different and here I am. This isn't a book, this isn't a movie, this is real life. My last blogpost may have seemed a little anti- New York. But as my days roll into weeks and my weeks roll into months, New York continues to open herself up to me. The good, the bad, the nice and the mean. My birthday weekend revealed to me that New York, at some point, I don't know when or how but New York has actually become home. As I received text messages and phone calls to wish me happy birthday, my phone lit up just as it would back in Australia. Texts from people in America, that last year were not in my life. I had plans with my girlfriends and I got presents from people who I could tell knew me, really really knew me. The gifts they gave me completely reflected the person I am today. These people... are my New York family. 

"Do you have family here?" somebody asked the other day, well... perhaps I do. 

As I sat around the table, it was like I'd never been anywhere else. These people were now my people. We were each others people. Because thats what happens. No matter how much planning, organising, thinking and dreaming you do... it'll turn out just the way its supposed too. Just like my paper plane... completely unpredictable. 

And even when you least expect it, you'll find an Australian, or two or three. Even amongst thousands of people (it helped he was wearing a flag). But it doesn't matter where you are, Australia is always "home" but sometimes you've got to embrace the new, the different, the chaos, the unexpected and it's then you realise the you've got a shiny safety net surrounding you... again and you're going to be just fine. 

Four Australians.

What have you learnt Rachel? I've learnt to live in this very moment. I am a thinker and a planner. But not just a 'rough sketch' planner. I usually have a blue print. I think of the ways life is going to unfold, my diary (or schedual as Americans call it) is full of red pen, blue pen, green, blue, pink and orange highlighters- dates running up to April 2014. This is planner Rachel. And planning is good, I wouldn't be here now if I hadn't put a reasonable amount of thought and planning into it. However, what I've realised is.... you.have.no.idea.what.is.about.to.happen. I must have spent hours upon hours thinking what life would be like when I moved to America, how my friends would be, how my weekends would be spent, how work would be and what would I do when my 12 months was up? Thoughts, upon thoughts, upon anxieties on what would happen when it happens? Nearly 5 months in and I am so far from where I expected to be it's almost shocking. It's not better, it's not worse, but it's not where I expected to be. The picture, will never be the reality. So stop expecting and just do it.

Tomorrow will figure itself out. xx

Thanks for the present Mila xx

Because the thing about the Wild is, you've got to have your own back.

"So you will walk and you will trip. You will trip over those rocks and get the bruises and the grazes and the heavy pack will make your legs buckle and your back ache. You are sure you can't go on".

I just finished reading the book Wild by Cheryl Strayed. It’s about a woman who decided to hike through the wilderness for 6 weeks. Alone. Her goal was to find herself and to 'sort' herself out. She was literally in the Wild and dealt with everything that comes to mind when you think of the Wild. Physical wounds from the pack she carried and the rocks she tripped on, emotional wounds as she replayed her past and anticipated her future, she saw wild animals that she had to run from and hide from, men who were amused a woman would do such a trip alone and strangers who she couldn’t tell if they were safe or dangerous but had to trust them with no other choice. Although, within all of this, she found renewed appreciation in the stars at night, the stars that shone brighter here than anywhere she’d seen before, beauty in the landscape that spanned miles and miles in every direction, pride in her journey and love for herself for daring to do such a crazy thing… in the Wild, she survived.

New York is my Wild. 

When I first got here I wrote a manic email to a travelling friend I had met on my previous trip to New York in December. I told him how I missed home, I had cried and I was lonely, “how do you do it!” I wanted the magic solution. Maybe he was going to reply with a time frame “Rachel on May 13^th you will feel ok again” or maybe even “there is a great vitamin drink at the CVS pharmacy and it’ll totally boost your mood!” that didn’t happen. What he said was that it’s personal, it’s different for everyone and to set some personal goals for myself. What is it I want to get from this? Learn to trust myself? Learn to listen to myself?

He said to figure the goals out early on and the days will have more purpose.

In every sense, this place is Wild. From my safe zone in Australia I looked outwards on New York as a bright, exciting city, full of clothing stores, fancy restaurants, yellow taxis, cocktail bars and a big green space called Central Park. And sure, this all exists… but there is also a booming underbelly. I can’t figure out if I was naïve when I first got here, or that I now pay too much attention to my surroundings, but what I do know, is that this city is Wild.

I have lost count of the times I have genuinely feared for my safety. I don’t say this to alarm my Grandparents back in Australia who I’m sure are reading this as they open their email to start typing to me. But really, it’s the truth and it is for most people in this city (unless you have a driver and a doorman). I recently received a very loving but concerned email from my Grandfather urging me to be careful, as the Australian news had full coverage on the death of a 22 year old Australian who had been shot in the back in America. My Grandpa was lovingly reminding me to please be safe and not put myself into any dangerous situations. In a separate conversation my best friend said, “Oh I’m sure you’ve heard all about it”. But the truth is I hadn’t heard anything about it, people get shot and killed here (in New York) on a daily basis and it doesn’t even make the news. That’s the reality. Now it may seem I’m painting a very black picture, and I certainly don’t mean too. But as I head into my fifth month here in America, my vision is slowly altering and I’m seeing New York for all that it is. For the Wild it really is. 

At least for me.

Each neighbourhood is vastly different to the next and on one corner you could count your money on the pavement and no one would bother you and on the next you’d better hold tight to your bag. The trick here is knowing where you are and always being alert. Just like being in the Wild. When hikers go into the bush they have their maps, boots, flashlight, flares and a compass. In New York I make sure I know where the subways are and what lines connect where, my phone is fully charged (with my charger in my bag), a bag with zips and my metro card where I can easily grab it.

Last week I was waiting for a friend in Chelsea at 11am, Friday morning. Chelsea to me is a nice, beautiful place to be in, however I quickly remembered, you stand anywhere in one spot for too long and you’re going to stick out. I’ve written before that NY is fast, if you’re looking in store windows- move to the side. Everyone is going somewhere or coming from somewhere and unless you want to stick out like a tourist (because they are everywhere and tourists are the ones that get picked on) you need to look like you know what you’re doing. So, silly me arrived at 10:40am, I had 20 minutes to wait… crap. In 20 minutes I was whistled at, stared at by a man 3 metres from me while mumbling under his breath, winked at and then asked if I needed a taxi. This is no exaggeration. I was so mad and in a huff by 10:55am I was ready to walk into the beauty spa across the road to get an unneeded eyebrow wax just to get off the street. For some unbeknownst reason, people here often think they can say whatever they want to you. They can call you names, yell abuse, ask for money and then get annoyed when you only give a dollar, follow you, and say whatever they want. I haven’t figured out why this happens. Maybe because there are so many people they figure everyone just blends in together, or because they are high or drunk, curious, lonely or angry?

Here, in my Wild I have grown a few new layers of skin. And I think this was one of my personal goals. I wanted to be a little less sensitive, a little less vulnerable and become a little stronger, a little more fierce.

In Australia I would do my best not to walk past a homeless person without giving money, what was a dollar to me in a day anyway. When I arrived in NY I tried at first to give money when I could but if I continued to give them all money, half my weekly salary would be gone. Often it’s too difficult to get your wallet out because they are standing up in your face asking and other times I just don’t have the money. This has made another layer of skin. The layer of skin that makes me think it's ok to not give money. I still get upset when walking past someone on the street begging, but I watch as some, don't even flinch. Is that surviving in the Wild? Is this how you make it? 

Friday night I stood on the subway, a man who looked to be in his fifties, wearing a fishing hat, yellow shirt and brown pants began to speak...

“Good evening everyone, I am homeless, I don’t have a place to live and I am hungry. I cannot see well and my legs give me constant pain, any money you can spare I would appreciate. Please can you help me.” 

As he walked from one end of the subway to the other he repeated, “please can you help me, please can you help me, please can you help me”. These words hit me like a brick in the face. Of the 40 or more people who filled the subway, only one person put coins in his cup. My wallet was empty and as I stood there holding the pole I was another “please help me” away from bursting into tears. Was I the only one who felt my insides turning for this person? Because this man was sure to step out of the subway and into the Wild. He would disappear into the Wild and I am certain I will never see him again. When I speak to other New Yorkers it’s a general consensus that “it’s very sad, but you can’t give them all money”. I know there is truth in this but somewhere in this Wild I can’t help but feel.

In a city full of people it can sometimes feel empty. People weaving in, out and around each other. I've been bumped, tripped and shoved without a single "sorry". And this isn't a New York thing, this is a big city thing. This is just a Wild human thing. I love New York, just as Cheryl loved her landscape that went for miles and miles. New York is my Wild that's slowly but surely making me, me.

Wild it is... to survive in it. 

Because the thing about the Wild is, you've got to have your own back. Because there isn't anybody else there to catch you when you fall. And that's the truth.

"So you will walk and you will trip. You will trip over those rocks and get the bruises and the grazes and the heavy pack will make your legs buckle and your back ache. You are sure you can't go on. But if you can just make it a little further... your skin will start adjusting, your muscles will grow stronger to hold the pack and you will remember to watch your step and next time, you will stop your fall and you will survive". 

"We live in danger of becoming paralyzed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice".

“Sometimes life is too hard to be alone, and sometimes life is too good to be alone.” 

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed.

At 20 years old, confused and a little annoyed with 'love' I read 'Committed' by Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of 'Eat, Pray, Love'. This was a book she wrote about love and marriage, how it works, why it works and how some people remain committed and others don't. After whizzing through the pages at lightening speed, completely immersed and feeling wiser from each word, I embarked on a personal quest. I would ask people who were married (like my grandparents) what their 'secret' to love and marriage was, because  I believe these to be two separate things. To love someone is one thing, but to make the commitment and marry them and remain married, well that's a whole separate thing. Surely they were about to reveal the mystical, magical ingredient that I might adopt and then live happily ever after? 

Right?

After many conversations and never ending questions, I didn't get that one secret ingredient. Instead I got a bag full of ingredients, wrapped up in respect, appreciation, time, friendship, love, kindness, taking the time to 'work on it' and... simply staying, when others might leave. I was a little confused. I already new this stuff. Didn't I? Don't we all? Don't we all get taught from a very young age to treat others how you want to be treated and if you don't have something nice to say then don't say anything at all? Isn't respect, kindness and appreciation how we treat each other anyway? Especially in relationships with someone we 'love'? Well, I guess there comes a point that we don't. And then it ends? Or the happiness ends... right?

“People always fall in love with the most perfect aspects of each other’s personalities. Who wouldn’t? Anybody can love the most wonderful parts of another person. But that’s not the clever trick. The really clever trick is this: Can you accept the flaws? Can you look at your partner’s faults honestly and say, ‘I can work around that. I can make something out of it.’? Because the good stuff is always going to be there, and it’s always going to pretty and sparkly, but the crap underneath can ruin you.”  

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed.

But why am I even talking about love and its mystery during my 'year away'? 

Well, as I move closer to 'being old', I think about this. I reflect on that time, several years ago when I sat intently in my room reading 'committed' in search of the answers to happily ever after. I wonder what it was I was really searching for? And part of me has started thinking about those ingredients again, because one day, maybe now, I will need to use them.

Saturday morning I flew to Fort Lauderdale, Florida to celebrate the 85th birthday of my Uncle. The evening celebrations began with a room full of  50+ people, two were my family, one was my close friend, two others I had met that day and the rest were strangers. As the evening went on I found myself laughing, talking and dancing with people as though I had known them for years. These people were no longer strangers, we now had a cord tying us together, formed from the love and friendship they had with my Uncles, something they were now extending to me. This fascinated me, because people fascinate me, they always have. I ask questions like "what makes your marriage work?", because simply put, people are fascinating and you will never hear quite the same answer twice. 

On this night I found myself in awe of the gathering of people that filled the chairs and moved across the dance floor. Each one a smiling face, with a genuine love and care for my Uncle Bill and Barry. As I sat at my table and took in my surroundings I felt humbled to be apart of it. What wonderful people they are to have created a life such as this. For if I, at 85 am able to sing, dance and laugh with a room full of people who genuinely love and adore me... I will be grateful. 

As the evening continued on, I noticed something more. I noticed the intimate relationships within the room that people shared with their partners. Husbands and husbands, husband and wife.  The room was filled with young and old, from all walks of  life and many of these people were sharing the evening alongside their partner. And I, from the outside looking in, saw laughter, dancing and smiles. Because that is all we ever are isn't it? From the outside if we are not on the inside? As most relationships are composed of walls and windows. 

"The windows are the aspects of your relationship that are open to the world—that is, the necessary gaps through which you interact with family and friends; the walls are the barriers of trust behind which you guard the most intimate secrets of your marriage.”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed. 

However, at the centre of this all was the celebration of my Uncle's birthday and within this celebration, a very special duo. 

It isn't often that you get to see a strong, solid, connected, united force of two people. Two people who have travelled through time together, up and down the hills, over, around and through the obstacles that people call life. A relationship, that is a friendship, a companionship and a partnership (and that's just what I observe from the outside). A life shared, not only with each other, but with their family and friends within this room. For we are all here for you two.

“In the modern industrialized Western world, where I come from, the person whom you choose to marry is perhaps the single most vivid representation of your own personality. Your spouse becomes the most gleaming possible mirror through which your emotional individualism is reflected back to the world. There is no choice more intensely personal after all, than whom you choose to marry; that choice tells us, to a large extent, who you are.”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed.

As I enter into my fourth month here in the United States, I cannot believe how much I have already experienced and how much I have already learned. I set off, after all on the quest of 'something more' and although I'm unsure of what exactly that 'more' is, I'm sure finding a lot that seems like 'more'. I got to be in a room filled with love, respect and friendship. I feel, in many ways that I was offered a glimpse into my future, sixty years from now, if I ever am so lucky to figure out what those darn ingredients are. 

While the love you share with you partner is often unrivaled with others, there is still something more going on here. There is friendship. There is a zest for life, a heart of wisdom, a mind of knowledge and a home of warmth that brings people into your life, and makes them want to stay. It makes people get up, out of their chairs and dance on the stage surrounded by people they may or may not know, it makes people do the 'wobble' when they haven't a clue how too, and it makes their niece get up and attempt latin dancing in front of a room full of 'strangers'. 

Certain people create a space that makes others want to live a little better. It makes people leave a room and breathe a little deeper, smile a little more and feel humbled to know a man so great, to know a couple so wonderful.  

And from this, the most miraculous part of all, is that love and happily ever after doesn't just lay on the shoulders of your chosen parter (if you even have one). It is within yourself and those all around you. It is your family and your friends and all those that fill the creases of your blanket of life.

"To be fully seen by somebody, then, and be loved anyhow - this is a human offering that can border on miraculous.” 

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed.

Lets dance.

Doing the 'wobble'.

Although I cannot end this blog with a list of ingredients, I can say that I am a little closer than I was before. Because I see that it does exist. This may sound strange to some, but not to me. As I mentioned earlier, people fascinate me and I know that some people have never experienced what I have. Some people have never seen love like I, they have never seen friendships that are tailored with greatness. But I have. More than once. And just how wonderful life is.

“The problem, simply put, is that we cannot choose everything simultaneously. So we live in danger of becoming paralyzed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice.” 

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Committed.

Happy birthday Uncle Bill, for you deserved all of this and more. 

xxx

Everything begins and ends with family.

xx