Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, no matter how much we wish it to be. Not everything can be covered in glitter, and absolutely nothing is perfect. Sometimes there are things you wish you could change, but then you remember that you are powerless to do so, then you feel lost.
Fair warning: this is not a comical post about my roommates and I doing something ridiculous, though I wish it was. It is reflective, mundane, and slightly depressing. So if you would rather read something else, I will not be offended.
This is about my sister and I. Those who don't know me so well will ask "What sister?". I do actually have an older sister, and I love her to the moon and back. She knows I would do anything for her. But, unlike most sisters, we did not grow up together. We were born to different mothers and raised by different parts of the same extended family. Due to reasons beyond our control, even though I met her at a young age, I didn't find out about our relation until I was a bit older even though she already knew. And for other reasons that have undetermined motives, we didn't always spend time together and were always falling out of touch.
At this point, it is no ones fault. We have both moved past the stage of blaming others - and ourselves, to an extent - but sometimes it still feels wrong. Not in a way that insists we be apart, but in a way that informs us of a disconnect. There are a lot of gaps in our sisterhood that were never bridged, but neither of us seem to know how to go back to those times. It makes me wonder what went wrong. But then there's this:
 |
Google Images:
"What does it mean to be a sister?"
|
Granted, she never taught me anything about makeup, hair, fashion, or boys. We never had family road trips to fight during. She never had to chase me out of her room because I was bugging her.
But why does any of that matter? Don't we have the end result that people want for themselves? We care for each other.
Can't that be enough?
I stopped by her place the other night on my way home from work in a sudden urge of spontaneity, since she is only a few blocks in from my commute. I only planned on popping in for a few minutes, giving her a hug, asking how she was, and then being on my way. "Popping in" here has the definition of being about 3.5 hours, or at least that's what it turned out to be. I caught her up on my last semester, where family is currently, and just life in general. During the obligatory chat by the car (You know the one where they walk you out but you two just keep talking and so it's been another hour? Yeah. That one.) we had far more of a philosophical conversation. It was the two of us crossing that emotional bridge of lost time.
Neither of us credit ourselves enough with the good we try and put into the world. The world is a terrifying place for the both of us. Neither of us believe in ourselves, and we can't believe that we have each found a person who will still love us and stay with us even though we may have tried every trick we know to scare them off because we know no different. We've been in bad places, and see ourselves as fractured - finding it hard to admit that we were ever jealous of one another growing up. She had the rebellious, artistic, city life with her cat and boyfriend in a small apartment. I had an intellectual upbringing and parents who were crafty.
We wanted to be each other so badly that we missed the point where we met up. We looked up to one another and always credited the other person as being strong. We saw strength in the other when we saw our own failures. There are still days I can't wrap my head around why we are so apologetic towards each other, but I think it's because we are both trying to heal and figure out our boundaries. I don't want to push them and break what we do have, but she assures that I haven't pushed far enough.
There's this concept that in the end, sisterhood is meant to be easy. You see it in movies, TV shows, magazines, books, and even in the card isle at your local drug store. But it is the furthest thing from it. It isn't easy. It isn't perfect. It isn't avocado on toast with a soy latte for brunch. And it certainly isn't something that you can sum up and cram into a folded piece of paper that costs 5 bucks because it's pretty. (Though to give credit where it's due: they really do try their best.)
Sisterhood is those late night phone calls that are answered with "Where are you? Are you okay? Do I need to pick you up?" when all you want to do is say goodnight. It's a Sunday evening call that lasts till 9 when they ask if you have a bed time even though you are in college because they temporarily forgot your age. It's sticky notes left on their door and letters slipped under the mat for them to find when they get home. It's going out for lunch and being asked if she can buy you a drink, and then reminding her that you're not yet 21. It's picking her up to take her out for dinner and a drink on your 21st birthday and the selfies that follow. It's not regretting the late night spent with her when you have an early morning; because in the end you wouldn't change a thing.
I am so grateful to have this woman in my life. She is brave, artistic, talented, and I wouldn't change a thing about us. I'll take her as she is, because at least then I know that I will have her in my life. That alone is enough to make me happy. She is my sister.
Comments
Post a Comment