A little bit of my childhood that can never be lost . . .

 

I reckon one of the best gifts I ever got from God and my Parents was my siblings. We were not a large family, just mom, dad, my sister, my brother and I, but we more than made up for our lack in size with the abundance of our love for each other. Not a day goes by when I am not grateful for this gift.  As an adult that is  . . .  when I was a child I am afraid that I took it very much for granted.  In fact, when my mom brought my sister home from the hospital, not long after she was born,  I very much wanted my mother to take her back to where she picked her up.  It was only when my mom explained if sis went, she went because baby's were very helpless and needed someone to take care of them I decided she could stay and that I would help to take care of her as well. I have never regretted my decision. 

 

Sisters are special gifts.  They are your first friend, your first enemy, your first sounding board, your first confident.  A lifelong companion that wasn't of your choosing, but who somehow ended up being the perfect choice. With them you share a history and a love that you share with nobody else on earth. Oh sure, I share all those things with my brother also, but I think the bond of sisterhood is a special one, written in the heavens . . . the bond of sister/mother/woman-hood is a bond that is beyond comprehension and singular in its worth. Its price and value are beyond measure.  Keeper of secrets, sharer of joys  . . .  my first partner in crime, my partner through life . . .  my partner in grief.  My sister has been my friend throughout everything life has thrown at me, and supported me . . .  even when I was making stupid mistakes, or when she  might not have agreed with my choices . . .  even when my mother and my brother cut off communication with me for a time . . .  and I had no friends . . . my sister was there.  Always, through the thick and the thin of it. For that I will  be eternally grateful.

 

Throughout the years we've shared hopes and dreams, and cokes and tokes, tears and laughter, joys and sorrows, aspirations and celebrations  . . .  toys and brothers, moms and dads, and for almost all of our childhood a room and sometimes even a bed.  This was great when we were really small.  I remember very carefully tucking her in under the blankets each night when I went to bed . . .  she would be sleeping of course, but there was a monster who lived beneath our bed who was very specific about what it chose to eat. Heads were not on his diet, and so each night I made sure our blankets were pulled up all the way so that only her head was exposed to help save her from its gnashing teeth and from becoming a beastly feast.  

When she got rheumatic fever, it was the sound of me dragging her to the bathroom on a blanket through the hall because she couldn't walk, that woke my mother up and alerted her to the fact that something was very wrong.  I knew this because we shared a bed, and I was always alert and keeping her safe. Those weeks she was in the hospital it was like my right arm and my heart were missing.

When we got older we each had our own beds, across the room from each other.  We each slept beneath cheap, yet matching chenille bed spreads and glow in the dark Jesus pictures which hung on the wall in our respective corners.  I drew great comfort from that  . . .  the glow in the dark Jesus and the sound of my sister's breathing across the way.  I knew I was never alone then . . .  and I know it now. 

 

Oh we did have some scraps through the years.  We fought over sweaters, t-shirts and coats . . .  and who was going to wear this pair of trousers or that.  I got angry when she read my diary . . . and probably for other things, which were so trivial I can no longer remember them.  When I got married for the first time, she was by my side . . .  and when that broke down, she was still by my side and we were back sharing a room once more.  She was the first to move far away from home, and oh I missed her so very much. The happiest of my adult years were always when we lived close enough to see each other and spend time together . . .  to compare notes about boyfriends, and husbands and children . . .  and recipes and heart aches and joy-filled moments . . .  crafting, baking and bird-watching.  As different as we may be in some ways we are like "one" in others and I am so grateful for this sister/friend of mine.

 

Its her Birthday today, the first one since we lost our mom, and I know that part of it will be difficult to bear, but I hope that the rest of it is filled with joy and with love and with all the things in her life that make her heart sing.  I hope for the most part it is HAPPY and that she will always know that I love her with all that I have to give . . . .  and that though, for now . . . .  we may be thousands of miles apart in distance, we are always and will always ALWAYS  be connected by our hearts, and our history and our great love for each other. Of all the sisters in the world, I'm awfully grateful He gave me you.

Happy Birthday Sis!

I hope its a good one.

♥ 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★•。★★ 。* 。
 *A sister is both your mirror ° * 。 • ˚ 

and your opposite.° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

~Elizabeth Fishel•。★★ 。* 。

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Black Currant & Vanilla Cordial.  Delicious!

Have a wonderful Saturday.  Be blessed and happy.  Don't forget! 

 

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And I do too!