This is three.
I still hesitate reaching into your fridge.
Even though, years ago now, you told me I’m family and I don’t have to ask. To this day, I think about that every time I open your fridge—just so you know.
You’re my other mom and my other dad. You’ve made me feel welcome. And you’ve given me the extended family I never had—a grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins, the works. I married V and suddenly had more family members than I can count. It’s been great.
You’ve been there when we’ve needed you. You’ve helped us through some real shit.
I love you both.