I looked through my photo album, my fingers flipping the pages quickly, as I looked for that one photo.
There it was, towards the back.
I stopped and smiled.
I could still hear my voice demanding to have this photograph taken.
A woman stood to my right. Her smile shining with pride as her hand held mine. She had always been there for me. Almost as far back as I could remember now. I often thought of her as the source of my conscience because she always seemed to give advice that pointed to the moral north, but at the same time, she was all that was compassion and kindness, understanding and empathy even when she was listening to the tales where I strayed from my usual straight-laced path.
She had also opened up my world by introducing me to music, books, films, television, musicals, websites, whole worlds that I would never have discovered on my own, she had taught me those.
To my left stood a tall, good-looking guy in a suit. He was not my conscience, he was more the little devil on my shoulder most of the time. But he had done me good as well. He had taught me so much of my confidence, he had taught me to flirt, he had let down my barriers of fear and made me feel more safe than any other guy I had ever known. He had held me when my entire world had fallen apart and he had made me laugh when I thought that I would drown in my tears. He was the one who had threatened the boys I had dated if they hurt me, letting me make my own mistakes while always being on hand to tell me he told me so.
I wondered what I had taught them, these adopted siblings of mine, if I had had as much of an impact on them.
At the very least I knew, without doubt, that there was no one else that I had wanted by my side on my graduation day than these two for they, above all, were the ones who had helped me get to it.