What is family?

It’s a question I ask myself often since I started writing my book. (By the way, I’ve sent the manuscript to several publishers and I already received a couple of rejections, unfortunately …)

My sister stopped sending me e-mails. Whether that is because of the money issue … Oh well, let’s not draw conclusions too quickly.

Family goes beyond kinship. Much further. Although I was always looking for my place in our adoptive family, I’ve always known who I considered to be my family. The family in which I grew up. I used to get a bit cranky when people would ask me if I knew who were my real parents. Why real? My adoptive parents are my real parents. My adopted brother is my real brother. The fact that we don’t share the same genes, doesn’t make it unreal.

Is my sister family? Yes, theoretically she is. We share the same mother.

Still, I struggle. I still miss a certain connection. The fact that we don’t speak the same language, doesn’t exactly help. But I must also admit that the textbooks Bahasa Indonesia have been lying under my bed for a while already gathering dust.

I don’t feel it yet. The feeling I call ‘family’.

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