This is my family. Well, we live together anyway. Eat together sometimes, sleep in the same apartment when we’re home. We tell stories to each other, scratch each other’s backs, cook, make messes, clean, and do other stuff that people do when they’re alive. There are 11 of us. Including the blurry Adeleigh, our pride and joy, the baby of the house. She belongs to the two all the way at the back of the photo, and they are expecting another this spring, so maybe I should say there are 12 of us. Or 11 and a half. It is a strange way to live. Two bathrooms. Two fridges. One kitchen, and some bedrooms. Strange, but familiar. Familial. That’s why I say we’re family.