Sisterly Bonds

Today is my oldest sister's birthday. She is the firstborn in the lineup of my brothers and sisters, twelve years my senior. Because of the age difference, I have fleeting memories of her when I was very young. I remember her sharing a room with my next oldest sister. In the room was a long narrow table that would slide up over the double bed where they could sit, propped with pillows, and do homework, play games, laugh, and share secrets. They talked about boys and parties, clothes and hairstyles, and had the occasional squabble. With their own popcorn popper and small television their room was their little sanctuary, a space that we "little kids" weren't allowed in without permission. To be invited in was special, like getting to wander into the mystical near-grownup world of teenagers. With clothes, makeup, curlers, hair dryers, and magazines scattered about I got a glimpse of what the future might hold. It all seemed very exciting to me.

I remember the parties that my older sisters were allowed to have at my grandparents' house. Teenagers, both boys and girls, would gather for an evening of supervised fun in the basement, with dancing and games, pizza and soda. My brothers, my little sister and I were allowed to join in for a few party games then we were quickly banished, leaving the teens to themselves under my grandmother's watchful eyes. I couldn't wait to grow up and be able to do the same. It seemed they got to have all the fun.

Because First Sis was quite a bit older, she did have more responsibility. I remember her helping my mother with dinner and sharing dishwashing duty with Second Sis. Some evenings she was left to babysit with all of us while my parents were out on the town. With phone in hand she would be perched on the sofa after we had been sent to bed, the television flickering in the background as she chatted. If she was in a particularly good mood, or extremely bored, she would allow us to stay up later than usual and play games with us. I can also remember her standing at the ironing board in the kitchen, pressing clothes while Second Sis folded laundry at the table.

On special occasions First Sis would get decked out in one of her party dresses and her date would appear at the door. Off she would go like Cinderella, to some magical event that I could only imagine, always returning home to my waiting parents.

When I was six years old, First Sis moved away to the big city to go to college. She would return home for visits occasionally, sometimes bringing home new friends for the weekend. I remember their laughter and chattering, their discussions about boys they were dating and about their classes. It was always a happy time when she was home, more like an appearance from a guest of honor that we didn't get to see often enough.

She graduated from college and began her career, married and started a family. The visits became less frequent but even more special. My little sister and I would sometimes go spend a weekend with her, excited to get to explore new territory and to play with our tiny nephew. She and my brother-in-law would spoil us with Baskin Robbins ice cream and treats we could buy at the grocery store behind their apartment. They took us swimming at the country club and to the zoo, to places that our small town could not offer. They moved away while my brother-in-law served his time in the military, then returned to the city. Their home became the gathering place for many family events, happy times filled with laughter, love, and fun. It is still the gathering place for our annual Christmas get-together.

My relationship with my oldest sister has evolved over the years, deepening as we age. We have moved beyond the differences in our ages and have become great friends. We see each other often and talk on the phone, secure in the knowledge that we will be there for each other when needed, to listen and to encourage, to empathise and to advise, to share the joys and the sorrows. The bonds of sisterhood are special, strong, and everlasting, a gift among women with a common history. A gift to be treasured for what it is.

I love you First Sis. Happy Birthday!