A Sense of Family? Maybe?

Isn't our family's tartan pretty?
Coral and brown on a field of bright blue.

Ever since I was little, I remember there being an intense sense of family pride. This wasn't some vague notion of what we were as our little family unit — we were members of a glorious Scottish clan (and Irish, if we want to count my mother's maiden name), and whatever we did was to honor that name and the heritage of the Picts. My mother cross-stitched the family crest for my dad, and we always had a spot of the family tartan in the house.

Here's the family crest. For those who are interested,
the Fortiter et Recte simply means "Boldly and Rightly."

I enjoy learning about Scotland and our family's role in Scottish history. It's not explored much in the history books, but those in the know know how integral our family was to Scottish independence. It also doesn't help that there was a fire in the 18th century that kind of destroyed the family record, but as far as anyone really knows we emerged as a clan (or family) with a tartan and chieftan, abruptly, in the 15th century. Maybe I'm descended from elves who decided to become mortal. Our clan is known for producing some "weird ones."

For all of the family pride and honor... I don't think I quite live up to it, especially the "Boldly" claim. I do have a strong ethical compass, which I know was inherited from both my parents, but which we blame on the Scottish genes. I've done some things in the name of family honor which no one knew about until I explained it, many years later.

The reality is that I wish I could go to Scotland and visit the land from which my ancestors came, and from where I feel this inexplicable draw originating. I've spent my entire life feeling like I didn't fit in, and I don't. Not quite. I might have to explore that concept a little further down the road.

I've never felt a sense of home. I know that's silly to read, but it's even sillier when you know that I grew up with my parents' marriage intact, a strong bond with my extended family, and that I love a great many friends all over the world, who are from any number of backgrounds, as if they were family. All that does not contribute to a sense of home for me.

Family isn't just my clan, or the people I happen to share genetic material with; home isn't just my family or the people with whom I live. It's deeper, stronger, and wider than all of that. I truly see my close friends as my family, and I see in them a need to do something more than what I am doing. What that is, as yet, remains to be seen — and perhaps I'll never know what it is.

Fortiter et Recte indeed.