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Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Celebrating Sisterhood

My sister is my best friend. 

If you call me at 8am and can't get me to pick up, chances are it's because I'm yakking with her.  Better not wait for me to call back; I could be tied up for an hour or more.  We can talk all day about everything and nothing.  Politics, religion, make-up, hairstyles, kitchen appliances, child rearing, herbal tea . . . nothing is off the table with us. 

Since my immersion into the texting world, we also send each other periodic updates on all kinds of things.  Example:
Me: "Water in basement.  (Frown face.  Wave imoji.)
Her: "Yuck!! (Bigger frown face with tongue sticking out.)  Need a hand?"  
Note: Sister lives 45 minutes away and has 3 kids on school vacation . . . and she's offering to help me?!  What a gal!

We were not always this tight.  When I was in middle school and she was in elementary, we shared a bedroom.  It was rarely a peaceful cohabitation.  I don't care what it was, we could turn it into a fight, but bedtime was the worst.

My sister and I shared different philosophies on sleeping environments.  I liked background noise; she wanted quiet.  I liked the dark; she wanted a light on.

Every night it would begin.  I'd put the country music station on. (Or worse, my tape recording of me reading my history notes so I could ace my weekly quizzes--what a nerd!)  She'd tell me to turn it off.  I'd refuse.  It seems to me I usually won that battle. 

(I have to say I finally see her perspective on this one.  My ex used to listen to sports radio EVERY NIGHT without fail.  I was okay with it falling asleep, but if I woke up in the middle of the night I COULD NOT fall asleep again.  Baseball season wasn't too bad, but football?!  I have not fallen asleep with the radio on ONCE since he moved out of the house 7-1/2 months ago!  I feel very bad for what I put my poor sister through!) 

After we'd fussed over sound, we'd start in on illumination.  She wanted the hall light on.  I wanted it off.  My bed was right by the door; hers was in the back corner.  I can't help but wonder why we didn't just swap our beds around . . . maybe we just needed to squabble over something. 

I don't know why we fought so much as kids.  What I do know is that our warring days started diminishing when I went to college.  Maturity?  Distance?  Don't know.  But by the time she got married and had my first delightful nephew, we were very close. 

Now, I count her one of the most important people in my life.  It's not just the free babysitting or the coupon apps she suggests or the way she listens to me say the same boring things over and over.  It's not just the unique and beautiful perspective she lends to every subject or her artistic nature or her sarcastic sense of humor. 

It's all of that.  Plus it's knowing that we have this shared lifetime of jokes and stories and dysfunctions and successes that nobody else (outside of our brother!) can touch. 

I look at my kids sometimes and hope that when they are older they also call each other far too often and text far too frequently and appreciate each other far more than any words can ever say. 

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