Everyone has two families, the one they were born into and the one they make. As a kid you don’t have much say about who you spend time with. When I was quite little, we moved away from the town I was born in and only visited relatives on Thanksgiving or Christmas.

The holidays were fraught with winter travel and big emotions. Sometimes we went to my Dad’s parents home and sometimes my Mom’s parents home. If the trip didn’t kill us, the family infighting threatened to. Often we were lucky, and there would be some similar-aged cousins around to play with under sparse adult supervision.

Things changed as I got older. Grandparents died and people scattered away. The holidays shifted as my siblings and I acquired jobs, spouses, children and busy lives. Now if we want to spend time and space with each other, we have to work to make it happen.

Closeness isn’t automatic, it has to be built over time and engagement. Relationships are cumulative, a call, a card, a birthday, and a visit. Just because someone is blood or marriage related doesn’t mean you’re besties; you have to put in the effort.

Similarly there’s the world we were born into and the one we create, as well as the home, town and neighborhood. I remember my change in mindset happened when a friend dismissed an injustice as, “that’s the rules.” We’re a democracy, we make the rules. Or at least we vote in the representatives who make them and the judges that enforce them. If there’s a bad rule, at this point, that’s on us.

Even this house we bought is being replaced bit-by-bit by us. Sure, we inherited the structure, but we’re responsible for it’s care and maintenance—just like every thing else.