Urban Family

I'm pretty sure my friends and I learned the term from Bridget Jones' Diary.  At any rate, we've used "Urban Family" to describe this bizarre and often inappropriately close relationship that has evolved over the past two decades.  We aren't related by blood, but as we've learned, that means nothing. 

I have been so fortunate in my life that it truly baffles and saddens me when I hear someone say they don't really have a best friend.  Not one?  I have so many as to render the word best nearly meaningless.  We sit at each other's kitchen tables, drinking coffee and baking brownies.  We call each other at all hours of the day and night when our hearts get broken, when our families go crazy, when we see a Pepto-Bismol-Pink limousine with spinner rims pass us on the highway.

My friends' parents grill me about my job situation, about my love life, about my relationship with my own parents.  I know every word of the text message some dirtbag used to break up with one friend and every word of her scathing reply.  I also have no secrets from my friends.  I'm an open book, and though I say they can ask me anything while I reserve the right to not reply, that's a right I never exercise.  We do things that some people think only happen on sitcoms.  So many times, it doesn't occur to me that our ways are strange and send odd messages to new people who may be just getting to know one or more of us.

So, if you do befriend us (because if you befriend one of us, sooner or later the rest are bound to follow), here are some things you can expect:
We tie balloons on your doornob for you to find after your boss chewed you out at work.  We show up with a case of beer and box-set of Elvis movies to take your mind off it after you've told a guy you were in love with him and it didn't work out.  We make you a mix CD and some cookies when your cat dies.  We remember your weird dietary restrictions, so when you need cupcakes, you can rest assured that they'll be vegan, or gluten-free, or soy-free, or whatever-you're-allergic-to-free.  We'll remember your birthday.  We love inside jokes and will let them run for decades.  We stop apologizing for the laundry piled on the sofa or dishes in the sink by your third or fourth visit because at that point, we don't consider you company anymore; you're one of us.  We'll take up the entire waiting area if you're in the hospital.  We'll go with you to your friend's wedding because you're single and don't know anyone but the bride.  We'll hold your stuff while you go on the rides we hate at Busch Gardens.  If you move away, we'll visit you and send you things in the mail, so you have a piece of us you can see and touch when we can't be there to give you a hug or a high five.
Most of all, we will stick by you, through weddings, divorces, births of children, changes of jobs, hookups, breakups, sporting events, musical performances, poetry readings, gallery openings, film screenings, dances, movie marathons, and all days ending in "y."  That's just what family does, and Urban Families do it even better to make up for not sharing genes.