My Personal Mafia

Ode to the boys. My father and my three brothers. I was never taught how to change a tire, change a plug, or even what is under the hood of a car.

But I did learn:

How to punch.
How not to be a girl when I am WWF STYLE SLAM DUNKED into the ground.
How to say sorry.
How to hold girlfriends I disapprove of up against the wall by their throats while explaining how my brothers are not accessories to match their designer belts.
I learned how to baby sit and not need therapy afterwards.
I learned that I have back up when I stroll into trouble.
I learned that I love them all differently and need them for different reasons. I learned that I am blessed to have the testosterone support structure that I do.

But most if all I learned that forgiveness is possible. They all are stained by my wildness, but they all embrace me just the same. Sometimes they step back first and ask a few questions but I am the eldest, the shortest, and the one most likely to get into trouble – and they have let go of the hurt and the need to understand.

I love my ‘Mafia’. ❤️