My Dear Watson

If you hadn't noticed from my recent Pinterest activity, I just came off a recent Sherlock bender (I may have watched all three seasons in two days- oops). Besides the obvious things I have gleaned from the show, like how Benedict Cumberbatch is a phenomenal actor, Martin Freeman has great comedic timing, and how British people have much cooler words for certain things such as 'flat' for apartment, I discovered something most people wouldn't care to think about if they hadn't been in bed with pneumonia for almost two weeks. And that, my friends, is the character known as Dr. John Watson.

Now, we all know who Watson is. He's the ex-military doctor who seems to be the only one that can put up with Sherlock Holmes. More than that, he's the only friend Sherlock has. Not a lot of people could deal with a high-functioning sociopath who has a heart three sizes too small. But Watson does.

And why should he? If I had recently moved in with someone who performed experiments on eyeballs in the microwave, I would have hit the road a long time ago. If that didn't push me over the edge, then the whole 'contract killers living next door' thing probably would have. Not our Dr. Watson, though. He powers through the crazy. The show and its creators credit his staying to his need for danger. Watson loves the thrill of a good fight and the adrenaline rush caused by impending death. However, I tend to think it's something else.

"You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends." I'm sure you have heard this saying or a variation of it at one point or another. Now, I do believe this saying does hold some truth, except for one bit. You can choose your friends, but I believe you can also choose your family. I have more aunts and uncles than my parents have brothers and sisters. I have sisters coming out of my ears and more brothers than my fingers and toes together can count. And why? Honestly, because I said so.

For me, friends are fleeting and family is forever. I've met many fantastic people who I would consider perfect friends. But, I have also met exceptional individuals who exceed far beyond the title of 'friend.' People who would, and have, dropped everything they're doing just to help me out. Persons who have made me laugh until I cried and individuals who have helped me laugh when all I thought to do was cry. These family members have helped me to discover that imperfection is perfection. That the glass is only as full as you wish it to be.

These select individuals, however few or many there are, are the John Watsons to my Sherlock Holmes. No, I may not be a tall, British guy who is a consulting detective for Scotland Yard, but that doesn't mean I don't have my moments where I lose it. They usually don't end with me painting a yellow smiley face on the wall and shooting at it because I'm bored, but I will unload a round of vivid vocabulary at you if I feel that it is necessary. And my family, my dear Watsons, take it in stride.

Love,

Heldie