Sisters

My sisters are back in town. Our whole family is in the same state again for the next six months. 

I am so happy about this.

The other day, while the six of us girls and my parents were seeing each other and reconnecting again after almost a year of being apart, one of my sisters said something to me that kept me up most of the night thinking.

My thirteen and fifteen year old sisters both said to me, "Isn't it strange to think that you are related to us? I mean, we don't even know you and you and we are related. It doesn't feel like you are my sister. It feels like you are just someone we know."

The comment wasn't intended to be mean or spiteful, the girls were just being honest. But seriously? Talk about a knife right to the heart. Why don't you just twist it around a bit while you have it in there and sever it completely?

I was up most of that night thinking about this. I was also up because we had a crazy horrific thunder storm going on all night and it sounded like there were canons going off in our bedroom, but that's besides the point. I was up anyway, so I spent the night reflecting on these words.

On the one hand, I am completely shocked that these words are really how my younger sisters feel about me, and it hurts. But on the other hand, I totally get it. And it hurts, but it makes sense.

You see, when I was four years old, my brother was born. My older sister and I were enchanted with him. And the night he was born and his arrival home from the hospital will forever be etched in my memory. The same holds true for my four sisters who came after. I waited and hoped and dreamed for them during my Mom's entire pregnancies, felt with my hands as they kicked and wiggled in the womb and was even there when the youngest two came into the world and took in their very first breaths. I cared for them as infants, carrying them in my arms, rocking them to sleep, singing to them when they cried. And yet it makes sense that I am a stranger to them. Because most of my dearest and most precious memories I have of being with my sisters happened before they could even remember...

Reading books to them before they could read, playing with Legos, building with blocks, changing diapers, giving baths, feeding them lunch, and tucking them into bed. My parents had seven children. I was the second oldest, and had many of the responsibilities that a mom has. I was fifteen when my youngest sister was born, and left home for college (and forever) when she was just three years old.

After that, I saw them only once a year.

It's no wonder they feel this way about me.

And it's no wonder I feel differently.

During my childhood and adolescence, these girls were my whole world.

But I've been here in our home country for seven years.
My sisters have grown up in Mexico without me.
And they barely remember life when I was an every day part of it.

Time is fleeting. And I have every intention of building relationships with them during the time that they are here before that time is lost.

And girls, because I know you will probably read this, know that my love for you runs deeper than you will ever know. You were the infant in my arms that I saw smile for the first time. I have watched the four of you grow from the moment of your first breath, to taking you first steps, saying your first word, learning to eat with a spoon, ride a bike, memorize a song, read a book, write a story, play music from your heart, and now for the oldest of you, preparing to leave home for college. It is true, that I don't know you for who you are now. You aren't my baby sisters anymore who really need me. You are beautiful young women who are almost all taller than me (which really isn't hard, but hey, you must be over achievers, and what the heck happened to me?!?) and to you, I am a stranger who oddly enough, looks kinda like you (the short version) and calls your parents Mom and Dad. But as strange as it is, know this: You hold a part of my heart that no one else can replace. And I will always be there for you, as much as I humanly can. I am your sister, and for the next six months into the rest of our lives, I want to know you as my sisters too.

Here's to making up for lost time.