Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Sisters are Forever ~ Childhood Promises

When we grow old and baggy, my sister and I are going to sit on the front porch of one or the other's home. We will each be in our consecutive rockers. On the table between us there will be an icy cold pitcher of lemonade. In our laps, will be our hanky napkins and two sweaty glasses (one each). And we'll sip and we'll laugh and talk of memories and make up stories. We will love each other as we have always loved each other, and all will be well.

This was a promise between sisters, made what seems an eternity ago, a once upon a time before "grown up" things found their ways into our lives. The wonderful thing about sisters is that, through everything, dreams like this do still stand in the wake of a storm, waving a slow but sure and steady hand, gently in the wind.

We rarely hug, my sister and I. It is even a rare moment when the words, "I love you," are spoken for any reason whatsoever. Nor do we really look into each other's eyes in that way that sisters are suppose to do. They all go unsaid, undone, yet so wonderfully noticed.

I never forget who she is, or what she means to me. I never forget that I could never be who I am today were it not for her. And I never forget how desperately I wanted her to be born.

Sometimes I want to hold her in my arms as though she were my baby sister from all those years ago. Sometimes I want to talk to her on our walky-talky phones, whispering nothing all that amazing from our bedrooms, until we fall asleep. Sometimes want to bug her to death or play a game or just whatever.

And I always, always, want to make her laugh. I suppose this is because sisters just are. And being feels so very good. And feeling good always brings about a smile. And smiles have the tendency to bring on a laugh. And a laugh just is, just like a sister just is. And maybe that's why I love her so much.

I will ask her, years from now, while we're sitting in our rockers, sipping lemonade, what she thought of this post. She will lick her lips and lean her head back. Rocking, she will say, "Oh yeah." She'll giggle, make a funny face, turn her eyes to see if I was looking, and then go on rocking. 

Yes, sisters are a wonderful thing.


J A S said...

What a lovely diary entry.

Perhaps you will be knitting and surrounded by grandchildren, all of whom have Mumps and are screaming-


Frieda Babbley said...

Thanks. I missed that one entirely.

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