Sisters. What does that mean? I have the unique experience of being a sister and raising two little girls who are sisters. As a child, having two sisters was a mixture of magic and mayhem. My sisters and I could create magic in our basement Barbie world where the rules were ours to make. There were also imaginary weddings using towels for veils and Necco candies for communion. There were never any grooms, but we never needed the grooms to complete the magic. As we got older, mayhem ensued with epic battles over Forenza sweaters and gas money as we attempted to share clothes and a car. Magic and mayhem. Through all of it one truth prevails – nothing is real until I share it with my sisters. Now we navigate the real world in our own clothes and in our own cars, but our lives are still intricately connected. My cell phone company could attest to that.
As we attempt to raise our own families there are endless conversations about celebrating big birthdays and small parenting victories. More talks about losing teeth and losing tempers. Candid conversations about what is best for our children---and each others---often crossing boundaries that only a sister can cross without doing irrevocable damage. We also share anxiety over health concerns, educational woes, and what is best rather than easiest. When there is news to be shared, good or bad, the sisters are called in to process it. And when they do - it magically becomes just a little bit easier to handle or a little bit sweeter to celebrate. This is my relationship with my sisters. I see this relationship developing in my girls. I also recognize it when I watch my cousins and friends with their sisters.
Being a sister is serious business. This was never more apparent than when I watched my Grandma Schlater celebrate her 90th birthday. Her children were there. Her grandchildren were there. Her great grandchildren were there. And so was her sister, Mary. In fact, Mary never left her side. Grandma has confusing moments sometimes, but there was no confusing who Mary was and why she was there. I am not certain that Grandma understood that we were celebrating her 90th birthday, but she knew she was there celebrating something, because Mary was next to her smiling, holding her had, and at times, barking our orders that only a sister can bark: “Nettie, put your hand down and smile. The people want a picture.” When Mary said that, Grandma looked at her and said “Well, OK” and smiled for “the people.” She smiled for her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren – and as I watched it all happen through the lens of my camera I realized that while she smiled for us, she celebrated her birthday with her sister. There was no mistaking it. It was magic.
