My sister Ann

...was born four years before me.
Growing up I remember her as a curly haired girl with freckles [she hated them] and skinny legs made to appear even thinner by a pair of black tights that she wore almost daily. She loved to play 'House' and could develop a story as beautifully as any well paid Hollywood director might. To her disappointment I never lasted very long in those drawn out dramatic tales. [I guess there was only so much direction I would take from someone wearing curtain sheers around her waist.]

The summer following high school graduation, my sister and I shared our First Apartment. The freedom was exhilarating. That very tiny one bedroom apartment was the most beautiful place we'd ever seen. Two sisters living the single life together is probably a recipe for disaster...but in spite of the volatile eruptions that shook our little apartment once in a while, we lived to tell the tales. [My lips are sealed]

We were married in the same year! and our first babies, both girls.. were born within days of each other!

All of our lives we've traded clothes, secrets, meaningful looks, recipes  ~and when we are feeling especially warm and full of good will~ compliments. We've also traded the evil eye and insults. We're sisters, after all.

Now here we are, with grown children and growing grand-children. How'd that happen. The men we grew up with alongside our children are no longer part of our lives. We live in two different countries,  and we sometimes forget to catch each other up on the daily happenings in our worlds.

Yet there is an unbreakable, unbeatable bond with sisters and their joined memories. Conjoined memories..

and no amount of time or space between us will change that.

My sister with her best ever fluffy buns ~Vancouver Island Farmers Market 2014

 first published 10.19.2010