The Sisters Three

It’s been a long time since my sisters and I spent time together.

Just the three of us.

Without the parents or the husbands or the children.  But last week I read, or dreamed…or maybe I just made it up…

anyway somehow, someway I knew it was “Sisters Week”.

So I phoned the siblings and announced that we should go out and celebrate.

And lo and behold the suggestion was greeted with cries of joy and dancing in the streets.

Ok, maybe it was greeted with a “let me see what  (insert husband’s name here: _____________) has planned and get back to you.”  I guess the husbands didn’t have anything as fun as “drinking daiquiri’s with you sisters” on the docket so we made a date of it.

There were several things to celebrate as sisters.  First, the fact that our relationships never resulted in maiming or murder.   This is a huge cause for celebration.  Sure there were moments of yelling, and slapping.  Pinching and tattling.  Slamming doors, yelling, swearing, the silent treatment, sabotaging, name calling, kicking, nuggying, flicking, squirting, yelling, arguing, insulting, embarrassing and yelling.  Did I mention yelling?  But through it all love and compassion and basic put-up-with-it-ness prevailed.

A second reason for celebrating is that the more of you there are in same immediate vicinity, the bigger the force to deal with the parents.  Not that the parents need to be “dealt with” but if ever there comes a time when offspring intervention is called for, we have a trio of strength to draw from.

A third reason: we’re all of the same profession.  We’re all teachers.  Now teachers unfortunately have the tendency to default to shop talk whenever we gather in groups of two or more. Impromptu therapy sessions.  When you’ve got shop talk, free therapy and a sibbling trust mix, it makes for some pretty effectual, cathartic conversations.  We listen, support, offer suggestions or merely empathize through a common experience all within a safety zone only a cohort of siblings can provide.

And finally, we share a history.  We have “stuff” on each other.  We know enough secrets and fears and insecurities about each other to extort bagillion dollars.  But we know them about EACH OTHER.  That kind of power has to be kept in check, a type of check that is strengthened by a familial love and a sisterly bond.

It was a great evening.  So great, in fact, that we’ve decided to all spend a night in Mom and Dad’s camper, without husbands and children.   Just Mom, Dad, us three girls, and plenty of daiquiri fixings. The sisters and I think it will be a blast …

hmmm, Mom and Dad, however, don’t seem to be taking to the idea with the same gleeful exuberance.

But I’m sure they’ll come around.

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