6, 7, and 11. Those numbers represent the years that separate my sisters ages from that of my own.
It’s a curious thing that were all have become so close with such gaps in age and the many hundreds of miles that separate us.
As I write, Kate is visiting in-laws in Texas. I have been surprised to discover how much I am missing her. The vacation she is on has caused a diversion from our continuous phone conversations that we share in disjointed segments daily while she attends to her maternal duties and I am either driving my car or washing dishes or baking.
Though not a phone person naturally, I love talking to my sisters. Oftentimes I find myself bubbling up with laughter caused by a call, or a quick text message or when having an actual conversation with Clare, here in Wisconsin.
The power of sisters is a deep thing indeed.
There is no sense in pretending that it’s always filled with pleasantry and glad tidings. Take last summer for instance. Colleen and I got into a fight after I bailed on running a race with her. I did end up showing up before runners all crammed for an ideal spot at the starting line. At that point we weren’t even speaking to each other. Before the gun went off though, we were jumping up and down, and hugging while yelling at one another to win each our divisions.
Kate and I fight also. A LOT. Heck we still wrestle when she’s like 8 and a half months pregnant.
As for Clare and I… well, we both can spray out our fair share of negative words. Despite the sister battles that go down, I love my sister’s so much.
Each of us has a unique path and an individual set of boots.
What one loves, the next might not enjoy. Regardless of all differences, though, we do enjoy each other and as a result of that…
..my life is all the more rich.