“Sibling relationships need much more support and celebration than they receive in our culture. Often, as adults, we find that our siblings are the people who have known us the longest, know the most about us, and share the most life events with us. Particularly in our mobile society, sibling relationships offer us a shelter that few other relationships can provide. If we are lucky, our siblings are our built-in lifelong friends.” — Mary Pipher
Whenever I fill out a questionnaire or customs form or job application, I hesitate when I come to the blank that states “previous occupations.” I find myself wanting to write down “Big Sister!”
And instead of listing my hobbies as reading and writing, I almost always reconsider and have urges to pen “bossing, cajoling, screaming, laughing, and hugging.”
I have two little sisters. And they have always been little. I used to describe them as “sort of tall, with 17-inch waists and skinny-scabby knees.”
Place us hip to hip and we look alike. But if you peer at the family photos in our family album, you can see our differences. One sister got the red hair, the other got the twinkling eyes, and I got the buck teeth.
Mary Eugenia is the youngest sister, the baby sister. She has the middle name I covet. Eugenia was taken from Albertina Eugenia, our father’s mother. I got Elaine, plain Elaine. Of course, my father insists I was named for King Richard’s sweetheart, Lady Elaine. Okay. Linda Marie is the middle sister. Lovely name, Linda Marie. It slides off the tongue in a lyrical manner. But wouldn’t you know, when I was a toddler I referred to her as Winnie Wee. The “Wee” was soon dropped, but the Winnie stuck to her all her life.
Now I look back at our times together — riding our bikes all in a row to the pool for swim lessons, reading in the branches of the willow tree in the backyard, walking barefoot in the gutters after sudden spring showers — and I cannot recall life without my sisters. For we were, as Wallace Stegner wrote, “all stitched together with a thousand threads of feeling and shared experiences.”
And my fervent prayer is the wish to leave this world before them. For I know – oh, how I know — to say good-bye to them would shatter my being with a black grief as deep as my love for them. I want to leave this world with cheeks that have tasted the salt of their tender tears, the imprint of their freckles upon my freckles. I want to leave this world with the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears and tickling by bones. I want to leave with the cherished thoughts and dreams they shared with me while we nestled in treetops, explored the muddy bottom of farm creeks, or picked wormy mulberries from the trees that grew in our alley by the railroad tracks. I want to leave with their smiles pressed to my lips.
And when I reach my final destination and I am asked to recall my life on Earth and what I think I will miss the most of all, I will simply answer, “My sisters.”
Nighty-night cookies
For didn’t we always say, “Nighty-night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite”?
4 egg whites, beaten stiff; 1½ cups sugar; 2 cups chocolate chips; 2 cups nutmeats. Beat eggs white until stiff. Gradually add sugar and beat again until stiff. Fold in chocolate chips and nuts. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Drop cookie dough onto a foil-lined sheet and bake until light brown: 10-15 minutes.
