Nov 2

Sisters

I have always known that I was lucky to be sandwiched in between two sisters.

Alisa who is everything that is good and gentle, Suzanne that is all fullness of life and kindness and laughter.

Girls that I laughed with

and picked on

and skipped with

and cried with

and said cheese with.

Sisters that knew before anyone else

my hopes

and dreams

and fears

my dark side

and the light

Sisters that jumped out at me

and chased me

and made me laugh

and made me cry

sisters that I jumped out at

and made them laugh

and made them cry

Sisters that know what it’s like to grow up as a Devlin

to be home on time…not a minute late

to be everywhere on time

to be proud of our name, and who we are

to shake hands firmly

and to always give a smile

One of my most poignant memories of my two sisters was the summer that I was going into tenth grade.

That summer was the first time I went to India and was also the summer when my other two sisters went places around the world too. Suzanne spent a month in Botswana warding off monkeys and hairy spiders, seeing Victoria Falls and wild giraffes, picking up children and not ever wanting to let go. Alisa was in Ghana, visiting villages and feasting on goats, laughing with the children and hugging girls her own age with babies tied on their backs. I was in India, in the swirl of vibrant colors, wide, white smiles, and seeing everything from the heartbreaking to the beautiful and loving it all so much it was painful.

We were worlds away from each other…the farthest we’d ever been.

And though we had always been fairly close to each other growing up, I never thought I’d ache for them like I did that summer. Maybe it was the fact that I knew how far each of us was away from the other. Maybe it was because it was the longest I had ever gone without talking to them or seeing them or laughing with them or fighting with them. Or maybe it was the knowledge that each of us was experiencing and tasting a piece of the world that hurt and healed and changed us so completely. We’d never be the same, but somehow we each knew that we would understand like no one else could all that had happened, cause not only had we experienced much of the same things, but we were sisters afterall.

I remember thinking of them on the long, unending flights home. Praying they’d make it back safe. And I remember getting off the airplane and running to the pay phone. Using the calling card, I called my mom and dad to let them know I was in, that I was alive, that I was okay. My heart pounded in my chest. “Has Suzanne or Alisa called yet? Are they in?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

And then I remember looking out the phone booth and seeing them walking toward me…running toward me. My beautiful sisters. I remember I dropped the phone and left it dangling on the silver chord, left my mom and dad on the other end. And I don’t think I ever picked it up again.

The three of us stood in the hotel lobby and cried together, cause it felt so good to be together again…my heart felt fuller and wider.

And now the three of us live far away from each other, though not near as far away as we were that summer. But still, right now, I find myself sitting at home and feeling that ache for them. Praying that they’re all right, my heart anxious to see them the next time they walk off the plane.

I have always known that I was lucky to be sandwiched in between two sisters.

One Response to “Sisters”

  • Can’t relate because I have only a brother and our deep affection for each other came much later in life. But what a beautiful description of your relationship with your sisters.

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