I woke up this morning, in a house full of all the people that I really love and realized something: for the first time in a very long time, I am happy.

Perfectly happy.

Last night, on the phone with Lise, my birth mom, I realized that there is really nothing that I lack. Nothing. I have a great family, two moms that have served in different capacities throughout my life, I have a great best friend and roommate, I have a great boyfriend who adores me, I have a group of friends who are hilarious and strangely caring.
I have a supportive family who deals with everything that I am and everything that I’m not. I have grandparents, a woman who I consider a grandmother even though she’s my cousins’ and not mine; I have uncles and aunts who love me a little bit; I have a brother who is the most wonderful person on the planet.
I was on the phone with him last night, and he told me that he would pick me up from the airport for a price. I asked what the price was and he said, “A hug.”
How can you not love Fruitypants?
I go to school most of the time, but not always, not today.
I have a beautiful city that I love, a little apartment nestled on its north side. I have a comfortable bed with a huge nest of blankets. I have a kitchen full of random odds and ends. I have a mildewy shower curtain, two pigeons who sit outside the bathroom window and coo when they hear us, windows that have never been washed, candles.
I have my computer that works half of the time.

He makes the pancakes while I’m checking email; I make coffee when I’m done. He puts chocolate chips in them, just the way we both like them. He flips them and makes sure that they aren’t “fail-cakes.” He hugs me as I stand next to him, wrapped warm in his big sweater, and I realize that these people have become my family.
I love them, I really do.
We play charades at night to pass the time. We watch movies. We talk and laugh.


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