Mi Familia - a collection of Family Stories
With the return of Family Week in 2024, a week-long celebration of family, friendship and 'family-like' community, we met with some lovely people to find out what family and community mean to them.
Published 05 January 2024
Collated by: Sam Kirby
Photography: Kylee Hewitt: Katey with her four daughters and their backyard cubby house.
“Food and family were synonymous growing up. Sunday lunch roasts and homemade pizza nights were sacred, and family catch-ups, even the “low-key’ ones were far from low-key.
They weren’t showy by any means, food was just a way to say I love you.
I think the intentions were there, a ‘I’ll just pop over and say hi’, quickly turning into family group-chat back-and-forth’s of, ‘Who’s got the dip and cheese?’, ‘I’ll bring the wine!’ and ‘Do I have time to bake?”.
They were (and still are) noisy, raucous, hands-moving-everywhere occasions. If you want to speak, you have to stake your ground and get a run up (a little like merging on the M1), no waiting for the other three conversations to stop first, and an expectancy that no matter what you start to say, it will be hijacked five seconds later when it inevitably reminds someone of a story / meme / Tic-Tok or is met with some kind of unprovoked sibling jibing.
(There’s also the times where it’s a jab or two and the sarcasm goes too far, we’re far from perfect and there’ve been plenty of those real, around-the-kitchen-table conversations that take place too; life happens and families have histories too; but even in those times food finds a way to say the things we want to say, even when we may not have the words).
It's in those moments, surrounded by family, I’ve learnt a lot. It was more than just sharing a meal; it was sharing of lives, and laughter, and love. This was our tradition, our way of keeping the bonds strong, 'our' chicken soup for the soul.” - SAM
“I was taught “Family” by my now 92 year old Mother & her beautiful parents; farmers from Bell Queensland.
Being raised in a small country town, the youngest of 3 daughters, it was a community that cared for it’s little community. . .
But without all that love and committment, I'm sure this little girl would have found much more mischief than she already did.
A loving Mother who was always there with the pikelets & cup of milo. Who didn’t just love & listen but loved unconditionally thru the storms & in the still.
Who believed in me even when I’m sure she didn’t really trust the all the childhood 'stories' I might spin.
. . . if I was hungry, they would feed me. If I needed somewhere to stay, they would house me, and if I was lost, they would come look for me. There's a faithfulness of family that settles deep within; knowing you are loved (even when you are being a little less than loveable).” - LESLEY
“I’m part of a large family. I’m one of six kids, a bunch of uncles and aunties, umpteen cousins, it’s big.
So it always struck me as a bit odd that my dad always had the saying that you don’t build a higher fence, you build a longer table. I always thought, how many more people can we possibly squeeze around the table?
I moved out of home in my twenties, a rental house in town with many neighbours. I often complained to my parents that I could hear the neighbours snoring. To my chagrin my dad would echo that saying.. . . I heard it, and then one day I decided to live it. . .
Over time, as the quite derelict back fence began falling down, pulling weeds along the fence line turned to meeting the neighbours through broken palings, and a friendship grew over the years I lived there.
They hosted us for lunch and we had them for brunch. We swapped veggies from our gardens, recipes and baked goods, oh the baked goods. I watched their little family grow, and the kids and dog would come for visits through the ever deteriorating fence.
When I eventually moved back of out of town there were a few teary dinners and many hugs. But rather than leave the friendship there we continue to catch up to this day.
Their little family isn’t so little anymore and meeting up means juggling the kids naps and the like but im so glad for that falling down fence and my father’s words… Don’t build a higher fence, build a longer table.”- JESS
“When I got married, I knew I wanted to have kids straight away. Heartbreakingly, in our first year of marriage, we actually lost four children, (including a set of triplets). While this was a brutal beginning to family life for a young twenty-year-old, it also revealed a deep meaning of family. Not just our immediate family, but also our close group of friends were all there for us in more ways than we understood we’d need.
Twelve years later, we have our own family with four daughters (and according to my husband too many animals). Living off-grid in a small shed-house with completely open planning (yes, that means no bedrooms, but at least our bathroom has walls) means we live a close family life. We all love reading old stories, and with our decision to homeschool the kids, our life is something like a cross between Little-House on the Prairie and Little Women – and I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find one of our girls burning another’s prized possessions ala Amy March. In fact, we may have a family of Amys.
Both sets of our parents live within fifteen minutes, so grandparents, uncles, aunties, and cousins play a major role in our girls’ lives. Our close friend group all have families of their own, and our yearly combined holiday during which sixteen adults and twenty-five kids take over a holiday park is always a chaotic, joyful highlight.
While we believe the immediate family is the most important, family means more than just that. While being a parent is hard, and I know we fail regularly, we hope we’re gifting our girls an understanding of what really matters in life. Good relationships are hard; they take work and commitment, but they’re ultimately what life is really about.” - KATEY
“For my family, whilst we do indeed have a common ancestor, it is in our differences as individuals that makes us a glorious collective!
I have a sibling in Canada, my children, and nephews (there are only 5 in the next generation!) in Melbourne, Sydney, and Perth, parents in Toowoomba and Airlie Beach.
Our superpower is how we actually stay in contact, the magic of special occasions, and even the reliably magnetic draw of tragic ones.
We have to work just that little bit harder with the logistics, yet a sense of permanence does indeed stay with us all. The length of time we are together is irrelevant as it is never enough, so we try to be fully engaged in any moment. Yes, we boldly use social media regularly for the little stuff, silly photos, micro-events, thoughts, and ponderings, just enough to keep each other in the forefront of our thoughts, for just knowing they are ‘there’ gives me indescribable strength to be who I am today.” -EMMA
“There is always that little bit of nervousness the first time you meet your neighbours, that little bit of relief when they seem normal, and that little bit of excitement when you realise you are going to be friends.
We moved into our new home in 2015. We'd loved the house, and to be honest, we hadn't really thought about who might be living next door until the day we moved in.
So it was with nervousness and a huge amount of relief when we pulled into our driveway on the afternoon we moved, minutes later a knock on the door, to be greeted by a widely smiling neighbour, a bundled up casserole in-hand and a card saying, 'don't worry about cooking tonight, welcome to the street'.
I told my husband later that night, 'I think we're going to be good friends with number 6'.
That was the first of many a casserole throughout the years, and we soon discovered a little microcosm of community right there in our cul-de-sac: a mix of similarly aged couples, a few retirees, and a handful of uni-students (who no doubt appreciated all these complimentary casseroles that were floating about).
As couples have started to have families, the street has come alive, and kids (who remarkably all seem to get along) seem to have free reign as they run in and out of houses and pools, appearing with slices of watermelon, zooper-doopers and plates of food as we collectively take turns in feeding them.
Late afternoons as the sun starts to set, you may not be able to see them, but you can hear them and follow the trail of bikes/ scooters/ roller skates abandoned on the footpaths.
Then came the Christmas parties and impromptu street barbecues, puppy minding and those occasional, 'we're away and forgot to take the bins out' phone calls.
Ironically, Covid actually added momentum to this mini family; memorable are the afternoon walks down the driveway for across-the-street catchups, the 'Are you ok?' text messages, and the early morning Anzac Day mailbox vigils.
Over the years, different families have come and gone, but the culture remains the same.
. . .We hadn't thought much about our neighbours when we drove in that day, and we certainly never expected to find the community family that we did, but we're oh so thankful for that bundled-up casserole and card saying 'Welcome to the street'.” -HAYLEY
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