This post is dedicated to all my sisters.
I have lots. I have sisters who I grew up with. We became friends in elementary school, suffered through the ugly duckling stage and survived high school. I have sorority sisters who I debated with on the injustices of the world and vowed to make it a better place by becoming a teacher. I have sisters who I came of age with, griped about the beginning years and adjustments of being married, and many of those sisters were there for me when I gave birth to my first child. I have sisters that I explore and celebrate my motherhood with. These sisters are co-parents, ladies who do breakfast instead of lunch, those I practice Reiki with, and as of late, bloggers whose common interests brought us together.
But right now, my favorite sisters are here in Manila. These are the sisters who know me better than all the rest. We have survived childhood together, and as adults they are the pillars of strength that I can lean on. We support each other through the distance, and over time, as we have gotten older our understanding of one another has deepened as well.
And it’s not often that we are all together, so I’m a happy camper right now. (But it also makes me miss my brother Pete, because then we would really be complete.)
Last night, after dinner (while the boys swam with their dad and my own dad fell asleep on the sofa) all the girls gathered round the table, to recap the best and the worst of the years that have passed since we last saw each other.
It was a lesson in listening as we all shared our triumphs and our challenges. But I couldn’t help but think each time as we toasted, laughed, and wiped away each other’s tears how wonderful it was that we were all together.
And together is good…no matter what way you slice it.