Michael and Sarah looked at their relatives and marveled at their hypocrisy. Now, Kevin’s birthmark wasn’t just accepted; it was a point of interest. They would draw attention to it, calling the handprint a “sign from above.” But not one of them ever mentioned that when he was born, they had rejected him, considered him different, and urged his parents to get rid of the “mark.”
Today was Kevin’s sixteenth birthday. Michael and Sarah decided to skip the big family party and instead take him on a trip he’d always dreamed of—a road trip to see the Grand Canyon. As they were driving, Michael asked Kevin if he was disappointed that his parents hadn’t thrown him a big family celebration.
“Dad, my family is you and Mom. I know I have grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but I’m most comfortable with you guys.”
Kevin was never very close with his relatives, likely sensing their strained attitude from a young age.
“I get it, son. The most important thing is that you’re happy.”
“I am happy. I have the best parents in the world. I’m really lucky. Some of my friends have such a hard time with their parents; they’re always complaining about not being understood.”
“Yeah, you can’t choose your relatives, unfortunately,” his father replied. “But you can’t just cut them off, either. They’re still family.”
“Dad, we’re not cutting them off. We’ll see them when we get back. But for now, let’s just be us. Right, Mom?”
Sarah looked at her son with adoration.
“He really is such a smart kid. Of course, sweetie, I completely agree. It’s your birthday, and you get to decide how to celebrate it. Your dad and I will always be on your side, and we’ll always support you, because that’s what parents are for—to support and protect their children in any situation.” She paused for a second, then added, “And from anyone.”
Then, almost in a whisper, she said:
“Even from close relatives.”
