I was blessed with five sisters (4 living). We are all so different. We each have our own opinions and thoughts. I realize that is how it is supposed to be. 🙂
We have the same parents but…
My oldest sister was my protector. She took a lot of crap from dear old dad. (Ever hear Mommy Dearest? Well, it was Daddy Dearest.) She’d get the worse treatment, especially when she spoke her mind. (I have always wished that I could speak my mind like she does.) Why do I feel that she was my protector? I’m not sure. I have always felt safe with her around. I feel that I could talk to her about anything. I guess because she stood up for me a few times. I’ll never forget the day she left for school. I watched her walk up the road to the mailbox. (The driveway is about 1/8 of a mile long.) I stood on the porch looking out the window just crying my eyes out. I asked Mom where my Jeje was going. She said she had to go to school. I asked her if my Jeje was coming back. Mom chuckled and hugged me and said yes. Even after I could no longer see my sister, I remained where I was. I wanted my Jeje to come back! I missed her.
My sister that is 18 months older than me was Mom and Dad’s favorite. (Or so I thought.) Mom used to tell me that while I was drinking my bottle, Cara used to reach into the bed and take it from me. Apparently, Mom thought I was being starved. Looking at me now you know I wasn’t. 😉 I say that Cara was a favorite because she was able to get by with so much. She was able to date at a young age. She was the only one who was allowed to play a sport. (Mom didn’t know how to drive at the time.) Jeje and I both wanted to play basketball but we were told no.
Then there is me. I am the middle child…right smack dab in the middle. I didn’t get an over abundance of attention. I wasn’t exactly the perfect child. Yeah, I’m playing the pity card. My older brother used to tell me that I was adopted. I cried and cried. It took Mom a long time to convince me that I wasn’t. Everyone said that I was spoiled. Yeah, okay, NOT! Just because I cried a lot…There’s four years between me and my next sister. That doesn’t mean anything…
Rere came next. She was the other son for Dad. She was almost always by Dad’s side. She could do a lot of things that I could not do, such as drive a tractor. She could speak her mind and not get into trouble for it. She was the perfect little daughter. She could do no wrong. She was amazing to watch while she did gymnastics. Whenever she had free time, she’d be doing flips, headstands, somersaults and cartwheels.
My next sister was called Lil Bit by Dad until she grew up. Lizzy loved words. She spoke words that Dad could not comprehend. He’d get so angry at her. There’s six years between her and I. She didn’t have to work outside like her older sisters. She could play and be inside.
My baby sister was born with cancer. Jojo had a rare eye disease. She died when she was 11 years old. She fought a long hard battle. It’s hard to believe that she’s been got for 28 years already. Seems just like yesterday. She had beautiful brown hair that she lost due to chemo. She taught all of us how to be happy and appreciate the little things in life. She taught me that life is too short to be negative. She taught us how to hug one another.
Growing up, we sang together. We still do on occasion for Mom. The Christmas before my grandma died, we stood in Mom’s kitchen and sang to her. We sang without music. During the song, I looked at Grandma and watched tears flow down her cheeks. I almost started crying. Grandma said listening to us was gift enough for her.
When my sisters are out and about and we see a distant cousin, they’ll look at us and make comments like, “You’re so and so, aren’t you? Which one are you?”
My sisters and I may have argued amongst ourselves at home. If anyone said anything bad about one of us, we had each other’s back. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?
Have a blessed day!