I still mother them….

There is something really special about watching the people you love fall in love with the people you love.

This trip wasn’t just Adriano’s first time in California. It was his first time meeting cousins he’s heard about for years. Kids who have always been family, even if miles kept them apart. There wasn’t any awkwardness. Within minutes they were laughing, teasing each other, making memories like they’d been together forever. That’s family. Sometimes blood remembers what distance forgets.

And then there was Gianna.

California isn’t new to her. She grew up coming here almost every summer, spending weeks with Rachel, Michael, and her cousins. This place helped shape so many of her childhood memories. Watching her come back this time, older, carrying so much more life experience, felt different. She wasn’t just revisiting California. She was revisiting pieces of herself.

As a mom and a nonna, I got to stand back and watch generations connect. Adriano discovering places that have been part of my heart since I was seventeen. Gianna returning to a place that has always felt like a second home. My brother opening his arms wide. Jude loving all of us like she always does. Skip and Judy making us feel like we’d never left.

Life gets busy. Families spread across the country. Before you know it, years slip by.

This vacation reminded me that family isn’t measured in miles or calendars. It’s measured in hugs at the airport. Late-night conversations. Backyard pizza. Cousins laughing until they can’t breathe. A grandson seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time. A granddaughter picking up right where she left off.

Those are the moments that matter.

Those are the moments that remind me home isn’t always a place.

Sometimes… it’s the people waiting for you when you get there.