I am thinking of family. Specifically our tai chi family. Not the Yang family or the family styles of Chen, or Wu. I am thinking of the family we have created by learning, playing and working together.

We start out by signing up for a class. We choose our teacher and meet our classmates and slowly, sometimes longer than it takes to learn the form, we get to know each other and we become friends.

By the time we are pushing each other around, we’ve learn to open up, trust, are willing, and even vulnerable with each other. If we are lucky, we start to make friends with those who share our path. We care.

Most of the time it sneaks up on us after all we didn’t come here to make friends.

Now, every time I think no one reads this bloggy thing, I get busted by a comment or a call. Most people who read this do not post in the comment section. If they need to say something, they call, send an email or tell me about it when I see them. I am grateful and reminded to be mindful, but not swayed.

Yesterday, several people contacted me and asked with concern about yesterdays post. Everyone wanted to know and asked, “Not our Kim is it?”

No, dear tai chi family — ease your mind, I’m not talking about “our” Kim.

I’m talking about MY Kim. The Kim I met in grade seven, and have grown up with, and plan to get very old with. And even though I feel possessive, she is not just my Kim. Kim has a husband, son, grandson, mother, sisters, brothers, as well as a boat load of friends, all who love her — she is “their” Kim. I count myself lucky to be a friend among friends that cherish her.

We have family of blood, and family we make along the places we go and the things we do. We get attached and we get possessive.

Kim stood by me when I married Ken. I’m standing by her now.