My family is like a box of used crayons of varying sizes. My father is like a wise old oak tree whose leaves are coated with clouds. His head stands tall--even occasionally contacting the basement ceiling.

Similar to my father when he just a tween, my brother resembles a bean sprout--he hasn’t quit growing. A greatly nourished young boy he is. Three meals a day is not his meal plan. He eats like a horse, constantly grazing on field munching on the grass. Surpassing me, towering over me, no longer looking up to me. On the other hand, my mother can still look up to me. You could say she is the runt of the family. She is like a bite-size snickers--sweet, salty, and small. However, ask her and she’ll describe herself as a king sized candy bar, wonderful and whimsical. The tree, the beanstalk, and the bite-sized snickers.