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"Don't get old," my grandfather says, searching for the right pair of glasses to read the installation instructions. My younger sister laughs. Grandpa's a kooky guy. I thought it might've been an awkward visit since I hadn't seen him in years (how many, I don't even know), but I found myself genuinely enjoying the company of the family's original black sheep. I have no idea what it is that he does with his life, but he gives the impression that it's not much, save for spending time with the 80-year-old woman in the mobile home next to his. Hers was clean and tidy and spacious enough to feel like any other home I'd ever visited, mobile or otherwise, like the suite of some Midwestern hotel. My grandfather's was a cluster of garage sale decorations, trinkets, filing cabinets with letter-labeled plastic drawers, and a pint-sized kitchen unnecessarily packed with the kitchen supplies of a chef. "Welcome to linear living," he says as I look at everything and realize that though a lot has changed, the feeling of the place stays the same. Honestly, I think the last time I visited Grandpa was during high school, back when I was so infatuated with surround sound that I wanted my mother to trade our system for his because his had the option for DTS (the supposedly better surround sound...). Like I did around all old people, I stayed quite and spoke when spoken to and rarely uttered more than a few paragraphs of conversation. I always finished my plate. I smiled and nodded and hugged. It was easy to get by, as a kid. Nowadays, I'm glad to say that I have an innate interest in getting to know my family, but I also recognize how my role as a family member has changed. They are less like background noise and more involved with my life now. They want to know my opinion and share with me theirs, like adults, like real people. It's been a slow transition from kid to adult from the eyes of my parents. Yes, it seems quick in retrospect, but the art of aging is really a very slow process. The more I realize this, the more I see the length and journey of life spreading out before me, the younger I feel. The best way I can put this feeling to words is: As I'm growing up, I feel less like a grown up. The more I find out where my family members have scattered to, what they do for a living, what kind of lives they lead, I see immediate examples of life's diversity. Unlike school, where all your friends are students on the same path as you, the real world is full of people doing their own thing, however and whenever they want to. What I'm seeing more of, and paying attention to, is what people feel about their choices. I'm seeing the loneliness of a divorced man converted into an extroverted, bubbly personality. I'm seeing young people starting their own businesses. I'm noticing that people are waiting until their thirties to have babies. I see the same problems in other families. I see that there is an inevitability to much of life. I see how easily I could become any of these people. All of them strive for happiness in such different ways. How we even get along long enough for a three-day vacation is beyond me. I think what I've learned that feels the most important is the value of the family bond, not only among the family you're given, but the family you can create, the generations you can teach the lessons we were taught as children.