My family is bazaar, and big. Mostly big. In fact when all of us are together we seat 16, and only two of my siblings are married (one more in engaged).
We're on vacation now, all of us (though only a mere 14 as the fiance and step-daughter are at home), in Gulf Shores Alabama.
Two of my siblings, my youngest ones, are from Africa, they came home three years ago last march.
Both of them have had different struggles in attaching and adjusting to our family, both are at different levels of trusting us. It's hard for them to initiate affection, in fact I can probably count using only both hands the number of times either has said "I love you" without being prompted, since they've been home.
These two kids are what contribute to my family's bazaarness. We're mixed now, different, and we like it that way.
Freeman loves to hold hands, but rarely (if at all) does he reach for a hand to hold. It is almost automatic now that when we're walking together I will reach for his hand and we stroll along, sometimes talking and sometimes not, holding hands.
Tonight we were walking back from the beach and without thinking I reached and plucked up his hand. He grinned and I gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Hey Em? I'm really glad you're my big sister." He said, smiling happily.
My words got caught in the lump in my throat.
"And I'm really glad you're my little brother." I blinked at the tears that moistened my eyes.
We are bazaar and different, but I like it that way.