Why can’t you be more like...

            I have the most amazing family. I will be the first one to point out why each and every one of them is perfect. I am the youngest in the family (ok Jack has now got me bet). Anyway being the youngest comes with many wonderful advantages such as hand-me-downs, always having someone around to count on for life advice, but the best of all is that there is an abundance of people to look up to.

            I went through these phases were “I wanted to be just like _________ “ and would pick up habits from each them, such as wanting to play tennis like Nicky & Louisa, be as lovely or kick ass spy like Marisha, put ketchup on my rice like Ian, and even develop a love for pistachios like my father. OK so these are all really silly and not really helpful in the end. None the less my end goal was to turn into as wonderful as a human being as the people I am related.  

            Now being the youngest is not all sunshine and rainbows (ok ya it is, but hear me out). You get compared to a lot. Angus came to take a horseback riding lesson with me, and after not having ridden for years, and my instructor made  a point throughout the lesson “why can’t you do it more like that”.

Other commonly heard phrases include: 

“You know Elise never behaved like this”.

“Ian graduated with three degree in only three years.”

“Marisha had accomplished _____, _____, and _____ by the time she was your age.”

“Matt has friends why don’t you?”

*** I hold no grudges I love hearing these things this is not meant to sound like a complaint.

            The point of this little blog post is that one of the things Peace Corps suggest is that you bring pictures from back home to show your new friends and host family. Have made a file on my computer of photos to show from back home and of my wonderful and perfect family. Each photo has a story all prepared. Who is in it, where they are, one special thing that I think makes them wonderful, and what we are doing in that photo. One of the photos is from quite some time ago when a group of us cousins got together.

The typical conversation goes like this:

“You and your brother look so much alike.”

“How are you related to Elise?”

“Boy is he handsome that cousin of yours.”

“What a lovely family.”

The question that prompted this whole thing goes as followed:

A:“How are you related to her?” Point to Marisha.

J: I explain.

A: “How old is she here?”

J: I make a guess.

A: “How old are you now?”

J:“23”.

A:“Ohh”

J:“Why?”

A: “I guess I though the pretty would be something you would eventually catch up to, ohh well. Kascrot?”

           

Thousands of miles away, and people that will probably never actually meet my family in real life still make statement as to why my cousins are better than me. I will always have a lot to live up to. Yes this story is extremely superficial, and maybe one day I will catch up to the pretty of Marisha, Louisa, Jessica, and Elise. For now my plan is to catch up to the smarts, kind, and wonderful, that is this great group of people I am related to.

Long story short: I miss my family!