Love

I just got another group email from Dad, who's working in Oman this year. He's so sweet to Mum, and so loving toward us — I just thought how lucky I am to have my family. I know so many people who have problems with family — dominating, overbearing parents or annoying siblings; and my family is just so great.

My brother is cute, sweet, kind and thoughtful. He's athletic and intelligent and gruff in a young-teenager kind of way, his voice just broken at the moment and really deep.

My sister is thoughtful, intelligent and so funny. She's grown up a lot since high school; no longer the geeky teenager, she's expanded her social group, and is now getting straight A's as well as having a large and varied group of supportive friends.

My mum is my mother, and everything a mother should be; I talk to her for hours on the phone, and she looks after me and helps me and respects my privacy and wants to come and visit me.

And my dad — I can't wait for him to get home from Oman. I know he's not taking good enough care of himself, but his every email has so much love in it that it hurts me to think of him over there, alone, without his family. He's coming home in two weeks — I'm so excited.

I'm so lucky. None of my immediate family, no one I really love, has died; I have no health problems at all, despite the fact that everyone else around me seems to; I feel I'm living the perfect life. Sure, sometimes things get me down, but only temporarily. I almost feel guilty when I look at my friends, for having such a good life myself. But I don't feel guilty — not really. Right now, I just feel grateful.