I believe in glue. There are many different kinds. In kindergarten, glue came in a tube, and I put it on like it was lipstick. In elementary school, glue took the form of rubber cement for art projects. In high school, glue was the copy and paste function on a computer. But the best glue for keeping things together? My family.
In a family of seven, things can get harried, messy, and even downright chaotic. I liken it to a really busy collage made out of magazine clip-outs. You know the kind. It has people of different sizes and at different angles, planes at the bottom of the collage and boats on the top, green and yellow and blue jumping out from every space on the page. The first time that you look at the collage, your eyes hurt; it’s so hectic and there seems to be no unifying theme. But upon further inspection, you see that one thing does relate to another, and that there is flow and unity to the picture. The thing keeping all of the magazine clip-outs together: glue.
That is what my family is. They are my glue. The glue isn’t the neat stuff, but the messy stuff that can be hard to deal with. But it’s what keeps me together when I can’t see the order in my own collage. When I suffer the hardships of life, they keep me together. And I am also their glue. It can be a messy and hectic picture, but it makes sense and anyone who sees it stops to admire. Many times my mom has been told “Wow, your kids all get along so well!”
The purpose of any glue is to hold things together. Whether it is paper on paper, two separate paragraphs held together by a transition sentence, or grieving on my sister’s shoulder, glue is something that connects things, makes them into a whole.
So I guess that you can say that I believe in family. But I like to say that I believe in the glue. Because technically, everyone has family, but it’s the glue that holds them together that really counts.
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