The women that make us: siblings edition
As I write this, it is my eldest sister’s birthday. We are now 26 and 32, but once we were 1 and 6. I think we'll always be the way we were, no matter what the numbers say.
Once upon a time, we sat on the sofa of our family room, aptly called “the third floor” as it was on the third floor, and had a teddy bear picnic. Just a few days ago, we went to the One Spa and then for afternoon tea at the Dome to celebrate her birthday. It was just as much fun now as it is was then. But, I think for the first time since moving out, it really hit me that we would always live our lives like this now: in short bursts of week-long visits.
During her ten day visit I was often reminded of something my aunt said one Christmas years ago —
"It’s so funny how when you’re with your sisters again, you all fall back into your old selves instantly.”
She said it as a sort of frustrating or funny thing, as in, the youngest becomes a baby again, one of you is the complainer, one of you is the peace maker, etc. I found it a bit sad. My sisters and I have all matured, we’re different, but the same in that I am always me with my sisters. The sad, frustrating thing for me, is that I never have the space to be her unless they’re around. When I’m with my sisters I wonder more now than ever before if we quite had it like other siblings.
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