A best friend is a sister destiny forgot to give you.

Many years ago, maybe in the third or fourth grade, one of my friends recited to me what was clearly some recent parental advice: You can choose your friends, but not your family. She meant for this to be a bit of a threat, to warn me that she could easily leave me at any point for a new best friend (such is the plight of a young girl; boys, just take my word for it). To this day, I still remember how hurtful it was for me to hear this from a person who I couldn't imagine out of my life.

Recently, for reasons not worth discussing, the adage has been gnawing at me.

In December of my freshman year of college, I was informed of the Christmas plans that had been made for me: my parents, brother, and I were road-tripping to Palm Springs. What? Just us four, nobody else? I asked. What's wrong with that? My dad retorted. I don't know. It would just be more fun if some friends came too I responded matter-of-factly (I know what you're thinking, but give me a break, I was 18). That Christmas was the first time I saw my brother since having gone to college. My stomach still hurts when I think of the side-splitting laughter he and I experienced as we spent a family vacation in what, effectively, was a retirement community. If I had to put a timestamp on it, that Christmas was when my brother and I went from being just siblings to being friends.

Through middle school, my uncle and aunt visiting from Colorado defined Christmas for me. As in, it wasn't Christmas without them. Some years, it was the only time we saw them. They relished the opportunity to escape to good weather and good company for the holidays and we absolutely loved having them. For no particular reason, the tradition dwindled, and today, is extinct. The blood-relationship isn't obliging either party to change that.

In the sixth grade I wrote a poem about friendship. Though I was extremely proud of it at the time, I know now that it was extremely naive. Chock-full of similes, I compared friendship to things like a "sand crab that pinches you when it's mad." As I've made and strengthened friendships over the years, I've redefined my schema for a friendship. To me a strong friendship is unconditional, not transactional. It's one where regardless of time or distance, you can easily pick up where you left off. And most ironically, the strongest friendships feel familial, turning my favorite adage into a bit of a paradox.

As we grow older and expand our networks, the line between friends and family becomes rather hazy. You start to realize that friends are the family you get to choose.

This year, I'll be spending Christmas with my brother, grandparents, and another family that I consider to be part of my own. When it comes to people, titles of relationships are almost meaningless. It's the feeling we get being in eachothers' company.

In search of a moving way to conclude this post, I did some haphazard Googling only to find a simultaneously eloquent and corny quote that sums up what I've attempted to capture above. That, the best part of life is when your family becomes your friends and your friends become your family. It sounds kind of silly, but when you really stop to think about how it applies to your own life, it's pretty damn cool.


Wishing you and yours (that's family and friends), a very merry Christmas.