"A sister is a little bit of childhood
that can never be lost."

~Marion C. Garretty

When I was young, sometimes I got the impression people felt sorry for me; their perception, thankfully, was not my reality, and if they could've lived inside my head, they would have known their concern was unwarranted. 

This must've been the result of good parenting and God's grace–as long as I can remember, I've always been reasonably confident in "who" I am, believing that whoever that is is enough.  This doesn't mean I haven't had moments of doubt or insecurities, just that I'm not dominated by those emotions.

A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life.

~ Isadora James

I have a a beautiful sister, 16 months my senior, a blue-eyed brunette whose fast-growing horse's mane was the only thing I ever remember envying.  Well, sometimes the blue eyes, too.  She was the "pretty" sister and I was the "cute" one; she was "long and silky" and I was "short and sassy".  Do you remember those Clairol (I think) shampoos in the late 70s?  My sister actually WON a Teen Magazine "Long and Silky" contest and her prizes included wooden stacked sandals (what were they called??).  I, on the other hand, sported a dreadful Dorothy Hamill haircut–the cowlick did NOT suit the style, but no one bothered to tell me!

She relishes her role of First Born and Big Sister.  Boys might be boys, but us girls?  We could fight with the best of 'em!  Vividly, I recall being pinned, her towering over me…and spitting… {yuck! how could she?} in my face!

Today she has two daughters of her own, giving her insight into our relationship.  In recent years when she was compelled to apologize–tearfully!–about big sister mistreatments, I shrugged it off because never once did I think she didn't love me to absolute pieces! 

And then there was the time she abandoned me….

you don't understand how a woman could both love her sister dearly and
want to wring her neck at the same time, then you were probably an only

~ Linda Sunshine

We were in the Beechwood parking lot, arguing about something I've long forgotten, clearly at the boiling point.  In typical teen drama form, I hopped out of the car, darted across the lot and started walking home (a few miles away on a busy road with no sidewalk and a narrow, grassy shoulder).  I was certain she'd pick me up any second. 

Wearing a grimace but losing my swagger, it didn't take long to regret my hasty decision.  I was shaken by the woosh of cars speeding by, felt the ominous presence of snakes slithering in the roadside weeds, and was frustrated this foolish foot race of mine was taking longer than anticipated. 

Where was she??  I was furious she had passed me!  Imagining her laughing her head off did little to diffuse my anger or assuage my serpentine fears.

A sister smiles when one tells one's stories – for she knows where the decoration has been added.

~ Chris Montaigne

When I was a quarter mile from home, she finally drove up alongside me in her brown lemon of a Cutlass Supreme.  In one motion, she slammed her car into park and jumped out cussin' and fussin' and SWINGING at me!  She hadn't realized I had made it out of the parking lot and had spent the last half hour looking for me, worried sick. 

I was feelin' the sister-love in the midst of her feline attack. 

Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life.

~ Charles M. Schulz

A year ahead of me in school, when she went away to college I ached.  Not only did half my wardrobe go with her, but a piece of my heart, too.  Simultaneously, I welcomed and dreaded the weekends she came home because I knew Sunday was just blinks away and that meant her leaving again.  When we were younger, for a time we shared a room, and on cold winter nights we "spooned" to keep warm–I wonder how many secrets we shared as we drifted off to sleep. 

Though we've had seasons of distance, mostly we've been thick as molasses, sticking more tightly to one another because we understood we needed each other.  There's a "knowing" between sisters, an unspoken, heart-linked language, perhaps because of common history or shared blood or for us, great loss at such a young age. 

the outside world we all grow old.  But not to brothers and sisters. 
We know each other as we always were.  We know each other's hearts.  We
share private family jokes.  We remember family feuds and secrets,
family griefs and joys.  We live outside the touch of time."

~ Clara

This year to celebrate my birthday, she wanted to do something special. In a single day she made up for a lifetime of {imagined} childhood abuses, but don't tell her that–I'm hoping her guilt will perpetuate an annual tradition.  It involved a delicious lunch followed by spa pedicures….


Pretty pomegranate drinks & pretty purple-tinged posies…

spa pedicures at Barnsley Gardens

Pedicure poses and pink-painted toesies…

Whirlpool relaxin' until we were shriveled like raisins…


But mostly, just being together, a gift in itself, to reconnect physically that which is already bound in the heart :).


Thank you, Sissy, for making a memory with me, and for your generous gift of self and surcies.  But could you please explain the darling cocktail napkins you gave me?  I don't get what they mean….;).

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