Задание 13 ЕГЭ по английскому языку

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Family
Growing up, I didn’t really dream of being a wife or mother. But one vision of a future family was in my mind like an internal live photo: five kids sit behind me in a car as we head west, my husband behind the wheel, and all of us laughing and singing to our favourite music bands. The order of the artists doesn’t matter; everyone gets a turn. This trip will take days, the sky blushing from rose to plum to highway-lit black several times before we’re done.
It’s taken me 30 years to realize that this idyllic image of a future family, made of subconscious odds and ends, was not actually just a figment of my imagination. The summer after I turned 10, my parents packed up our van, and drove my sisters and me to California to meet relatives we’d seen only in pictures.
Of course, the fantasy conveniently left out some unpleasant realities from our trip: five days of truck-stop showers, and four nights spent sleeping in bucket seats at rest stops to save money. Yet it captured the essence of how I experienced those who were closest to me. Family offered guaranteed belonging and protection from loneliness.
If you didn’t have friends – and I struggled to make and keep them beginning in junior high school – family meant never spending a Friday night alone. And when the world incited more panic than peace in your bones, when your nervous system needed to be bubble-wrapped, family meant everything. They left their job at the factory floor to pick you up, or answered your frantic calls from the school’s payphone, and talked you down until everything felt light and airy. The youngest and most anxious of three girls, I’d been born into a family of people who stretched their love over mine, covering me as I moved through a world that constantly overwhelmed me.
I have my own family now, and it looks a bit like my vision. Three kids and a minivan, littered with remnants of kids’ meals, and a spouse who adores telling you how to make every little step. The five of us can barely make the 15-minute drive to a supermarket, let alone to California, without name-calling and “accidental” kicking or fights over who picks the next song.
In this family, where we listen to pop, rock and rap alongside a mash-up of gospel hits, where we talk about feelings, I am deeply loved, needed and known. But there are times when I still feel lonely. Not in the weekend-plans way, but in the overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t built for this role and what it requires. I had always thought of family as something that could protect you from loneliness, but what I’m realizing now is that loneliness also creeps in when you can’t meet your family’s needs – even when some of those needs mirror your own.
When one child requires an extremely busy schedule while another suddenly needs an activity or trip to cheer up, or when one works best while humming and another can’t find their headphones fast enough – I need to stop, do some breathing exercise, and save the day. But nothing in my brain says: Hang in there, you can do this! Instead, my own personal brand of black-and-white thinking declares: You can’t do this. You don’t even fit here, in the very family you helped create.
I know that isn’t true. I do fit here, even when it’s hard. The five of us are built into each other, in ways I’ll never be able to measure or name.
I guess we have to “go through good times and through bad” in the family. Here I’m teaching my kids to read. Here’s the strawberry cake I baked from scratch.
Here we are, thinned out and tired, with not enough answers, wishing the world was less of an affront to our way of being. Here we are, much more than a collection of needs. But when we feel like a collection of needs, let us be a family.