Barbies & dolls were by our sides in our little home. Blankets were used to make forts over the table in our carpeted dining room. We swung together on swings, always a little concerned about the metal poles that flung up from the ground, but were brave and swung on. Sunshine afternoons were spent swimming in a $10 pool that felt as big as the ocean at times, when our minds would take us on fun, filled adventures. We played house and office. Dolls were on our hips, paperclips held stacks of papers together that were very important office work duties. We snuck into each other’s beds when the dark was too much to take. We rode bikes on our rocky driveway, and when we were really risky, stole a few moments with them on the blacktop road next to it. Explored pastures and dry creek beds, and even had a “special” tree that we met at. Rollerskating in the garage to Shania Twain music was a thing, pretending like we were famous ice skaters that we saw on tv because our mom really liked watching those competitions (maybe that was only me.) We watched cartoons, Saturday mornings were our favorite. Movie nights were had, popcorn and plastic cups of water, littered the living room as we all cozied in for the night ahead. Dad waking up in the morning, always to find a minefield of little girls, sleeping the morning away.
Time went on and barbies turned into makeup. Blankets turned into volleyball, basketball, cross country, among many other sports’ uniforms. Swings turned into cars. A 1976 Buick Skylark to be exact. Life got more complicated. Sunshine afternoons were spent at the small town pool, always hoping we’d see that one boy. Avril Lavigne was now listened to, Shania Twain not so much. MTV was preferred over cartoons, we even managed to crack the code to be able to watch MTV for months without mom or dad finding out. Until we were outed out. Fights were had. Feelings were hurt. And we all annoyed one another, some more than others. Scratches and hair pulling and pushing and shoving…. it all happened within the walls of our home.
You don’t truly appreciate sisters until you are old enough to understand that they are built in best friends for life. They aren’t going anywhere. You don’t have to be chosen, the choosing was already done. When your life feels like an entangled web of frustrations and hurts, it’s them who you call. When you feel lonely and out of place, thinking of them helps. When you feel misunderstood, you know they understand. When you reach a goal, they are the ones to celebrate with you. They are there for it all. The marriages, separations, births, the birthdays, the holidays, the hard times, the good times, the unknown times. They are there.
One minute you are all under the same roof, living life together; every aspect of your life intertwined with theirs’. Your biggest problem is figuring out who took more then their fair share of the blue bag of chocolate donuts on the counter. (I still would really like to know.) You share meals and clothes (often unwillingly and unknowingly) and friends and volleyball games and car rides to school in the 76′ Skylark.
Until you don’t. Graduation takes place, bags are packed, and we are each off on our own adventure. We move into different towns, different states, and see one another fewer and farther in-between. As time goes on and our lives get busier and busier, I treasure the time I get with my sisters. Even if it is still filled with scratches and hair pulling and pushing and shoving. Kidding! (Or maybe not. You’ll really never know 😉
To my sisters. My sunshine allies in this life.
