“Wait. You live with your aunt?” asks the husky boy as he ruffles his   light, caramel-colored hair.

“Yeah,” I say plainly. “It’s complicated.”

Every part of me is thankful that he didn’t ask for any elaboration. I hate having to clarify the situation to my inquisitive peers. I have told the story so many times that it has etched itself into the back of my brain. The same response every time, word for word.

When I was 6-years-old, my parents filed for a divorce. A year and a half later, the judge determined neither one of them was fit for me to live with at the time. My aunt was sympathetic and took me in along with my little brother. What began as a temporary living situation has now evolved into eight years of going to school here and traveling an hour and 45 minutes to my mom’s house every other weekend. It has taken eight years and counting for this stupid battle for custody to settle itself.

I was so enraged with my parents for not getting their acts together, but after eight years, I had to give up on that. Dealing with my parent’s divorce was not the hardest part about my situation. The hardest thing about it was trying to fit in with my new family. Things didn’t apear to be changing anytime soon.

It was hard, especially at first, to feel at home when I constantly missed my mom, my old room and all my other siblings. Things changed drastically. I missed my older brother and sister a lot. I missed coming home every day to an open yard and a ton of barking dogs.

What I got in return was stricter rules and one aggravated cousin. Everyone had to get used to the new residents and my cousin went from being an only child to having to share everything she owned, including the attention of her parents, with me and my little brother.

I felt like an intruder for the longest time. I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was an unwanted guest who had majorly overstayed her welcome. I tried my best to just stay out of things because I didn’t want to intrude.

Eventually I got used to my room and all my cousin’s remarks. It’s taken a while, but I’m finally used to how hard my aunt and uncle push me when it comes to academics and I’ve finally memorized all their rules. I don’t think things with them are ever going to feel like it did with my mom, dad and siblings, but I am able to say they are my family and I’m completely comfortable being myself around them.

It wasn’t just time that changed things though. It was something that my aunt said. My cousin didn’t want to discuss a family matter in front of my brother and me. My aunt didn’t see a problem with it though.

“They’re a part of this family now.”

That’s what my aunt told her. That’s what changed things for me. Those simple words meant so much. They meant that she claimed me. That’s all it took. I was officially a part the Brown family.

It felt so good to know that despite seven years of living with that elephant in the room, I was wanted there. I was part of their family, not just a part of their household. I realized that it wasn’t them that made me feel unwanted. It was just me imagining that. After I warmed up to the idea of being a part of their family, things got easier. I was able to let my guard down.

My aunt became like a second mom to me. My uncle made a great fatherly figure. And even though we still fight all the time, my cousin is almost like a sister to me. And it doesn’t matter that it took a few years of getting used to them or that I have a whole other set of family members at my mom’s. I love my new family. Plain and simple.

“Yes. I do live with my aunt. That’s not complicated,” I correct myself.