Sisters

My little sister, Jill, my only sibling, and I have always been close. We’re not the kind of close that talks every day, or even every week.

We’re the kind of close that allows us to jump right back into things immediately upon seeing each other, even if a long month or two has passed. The closeness that comes from being completely yourself around the other.

You know when you’re with someone, you both see or overhear something, you immediately make eye contact, know that you are both thinking the same thing, then burst out laughing without every having said a word?

Yeah. That kind of close.

Hubz was in Los Angeles visiting friends this weekend, so after she flew in from Minneapolis, we girly’d it up together in Kansas City. Torturing my canine, drinking white wine and cider beer, ordering giant carry-out salads for lunch, talking walks, and renting three of the worst rom com’s from the movie store.

Heels were put on, outfits were fussed over, entertainment districts were wandered around, live music was listened to, and “we’ll just grab a seat at the bar, thanks” meals were consumed.

It was great.

And every time that a family member leaves after visiting, my dear sister included, I’m flooded with feelings of gratefulness.

Because I know that not everyone so easily meshes with and loves their siblings, that maybe it’s not even a possibility for some to have the type of relationship that Jill and I have.

I’m blessed. Very, very blessed.

There’s just something about another human being that knows you, knows everything about you. There’s nothing in your past that they do NOT know. They’ve known you from the beginning.

Ok, fine, someone who’s known you from the age of 23 months onward. Details!

It creates a connectedness, a one-ness, that just can’t be replicated with anyone else.

Thanks, JP.
Thanks for coming to visit.

Thanks for always being the girlier one of the two of us, and not caring if I always took the outdoor summer chores we were assigned during break from school. You were always better at unloading the dishwasher than I was, anyway. Plus, your hands might have gotten dirty out there in that garden, right?

Thanks for not hating me too long when I used to shove you into the turtle sandbox and sit on the lid.

Thanks for biting me in the leg a few years later. That was a good comeback. Seriously, it was very inventive. And surprising.

Thanks for doling out fashion advice for your tomboy of a sister. Thanks for not laughing too hard when I texted you from a Nordstrom’s dressing room, asking if I would be shunned for wearing black jeans. The saleswoman that day appreciated your immediate answer.

Thanks for being completely sincere when you proclaim, “Annie! Look! They’re building a new Barnes & Noble over there!” on my behalf.

Thanks for never ever nope not ever making the decision on where we go or what we should do when we’re together.

(TRUTH. No denying it, young lady.)

Thanks for coming to visit, my darling sister.
Thanks for being you.

I kinda like you.

I’m over the whole biting incident. I swear.

Now, you come back soon, you hear. After all, I have no idea what to wear with those new jeans.

Tagged as: musings