My family is an old, tattered book.
Worn, like a book that has been read over and over again.
My dad is the binding, the thing that holds us all together.
My mom is the first pages. She is the introduction, she knows
how things are to be done, and how things happen.
My brother is the page numbers. At times seemingly
insignificant, but not complete without him.
I am the torn out page, barely hanging in, standing out from the
rest of my family.
That was really good. I got a good feel of what it might be like in your family.
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