There are many people in this world who will say that the most important thing in life is family. I am no different. Those who are my blood, or those whom I consider family, typically make my life truly worth living. Along with family comes their experiences and emotions that guide them through life. I am lucky enough to have learned a lot from them.

My bedroom is right above the kitchen. It’s been the same room, in the same house, since I was four years old. Right outside my door are the stairs that lead down to the kitchen, which is the center of everything in my house. We have guests there, we do homework there, we eat there, we hold conversations there. From my position in my room, I can hear everything. After fourteen years, there have been some moments that have stuck with me.

When I was little, I would hear Santa Claus. I heard him wandering around the kitchen in the middle of the night. I would hear the guests arrive for every party my parents threw, staying in my room as long as I could to avoid talking to people. I heard my father making coffee on the stove every single morning. I heard every single time my mother snuck down to the kitchen to cheat on her diet, because it was nighttime and if no one saw her, then it didn’t count.

I heard the simple things. I heard the microwave everytime someone in my family wanted leftovers in the middle of the night. I heard my sister’s signature stomps up and down the stairs. I heard my dog scratching at the treat drawer. I heard (and ignored) my name being called every night when it was time to set the table. I heard my sixteen cousins, whom I adore, arrive every Thanksgiving.

As I grew up, I heard my three older sisters grow up as well. During their high school years, I heard them cry in frustration over their homework. When my parents went away, I heard them have their friends over when they weren’t supposed to. I heard the sounds of retching in the downstairs bathroom as they learned their limits when it came to having fun. As I heard all these things, I also learned. I learned what not to do; I learned what to expect. I remember the sound of my third eldest sister’s sobs as she and her boyfriend broke up. I heard his soft voice consoling her as he explained why things had to end. I learned about heartbreak. Then, I learned about heartbreak again when I heard the quiet shaky breaths of my father after my grandmother died. I learned that my father was not indestructible.

I heard when my eldest sister opened a letter from a college and started sobbing. But I also heard when she opened a different letter months later and screamed with joy. I learned about when the world falls apart, and then I learned about when it comes back together. I heard my mom making me every meal she would bring up to me in bed after I had knee surgery. I heard my dad put on my favorite music to cheer me up. I learned about their love for me again and again every day.

Now, my three sisters are in the real world with real jobs. My dog that scratched for treats has died. But I still listen. I have a new dog, and I hear him bark for treats instead. I hear when the door opens and my mom lets out a happy cry as my sister surprises her with a visit home. I hear my parents, right this instant, talking about me and my future.

It has been a long running joke in my family. The joke being that you can never do anything in the kitchen without me hearing it. I’ll bring up something in conversation that I overheard earlier, and they’ll say, “How did you know that?” Of course, I heard it. And I’m so thankful. I’m thankful for every single thing I have heard over the past fourteen years. These life lessons will stay with me forever. No matter who or what contrives a family, the results are the same. Family are the people who are always there and whose lives shape your own life. Never let them go.