Families are a cumulative thing. The structure is the same for all. Like a marble. Round, slick, fragile, and a long way to fall wherever one stands. Beneath the curve of glass is a force that keeps one bound to the surface. From birth, the swirling colors hold our gaze, own all the peculiarities of our love and commitment and the sands of angst and happiness with all other members. Some families are complex, their swirls built mightily against their history.
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