I have lived in the same house in San Francisco my entire life. It was built right after the 1906 earthquake. I used to live there with my parents, my brother Abe, my sister Lillian, and my brother Zeke. But since all of my siblings are now off at college, it is just my mom, dad, and I. My mom, Carol, is a pediatrician and my dad, Howard, is a lawyer. My brother Abe is twenty-two and is in his senior year at the University of Pennsylvania. He is in he process of applying to law school. Abe is kind, gives the best hugs, and is a master at the game of Scrabble. My sister Lillian is twenty-one and is in her junior year at Oberlin College. She loves to read and is always there when I need a friend. My brother Zeke is twenty and is a freshman and Franklin and Marshall. He is very easy going and, like most boys his age, he enjoys video games and watching sports. I always thought that each member of my family could be described by how they walk down the stairs. My dad walks slow and with purpose, never skipping a stair and keeping his head straight up. Abe glides down the stairs, only letting his foot rest on each step for a moment, trying to reach his destination as fast as possible. Lillian prances down the stairs in a rhythm, making loud clonking noises and jumping when she hits the bottom; full of energy. Zeke leisurely ascends, taking in his surroundings and savoring his journey. My mom’s walk is a combination of all of ours, a little prance, a little glide, not fast or slow. Like she is a combination of all of us. When my family is all in one place, which nowadays happens very rarely, everything fits. Abe gets the conversation going, Zeke finds a way to make fun of himself, Lillian complements everyone, my dad corrects all of our grammar, and my mom keeps all of us together. I often find myself sitting back and thinking about how lucky I am to have them all.