To Be a Sister

I wear a lot of different hats during the day. And before you picture me wearing a fedora on top of a top hat on top of a yamaka, let me explain.

Most people are different things to different people. A single person can be a mother, a lawyer, a colleague, a friend, a grandmother, a problem solver, a Buddhist, a member of a band, an artist, a guitarist, a lover, a wife, a daughter…you get the picture.

And sometimes, we can get really caught up in defining ourselves by what we do. I actually find myself doing that all of the time because I’m always trying to be what people need me to be. On any given day, I’m a…

…sounding board, receptionist, manager, friend, teacher, mediator, cook, commiserator, expert, researcher, advocate, optimist, realist, marketer, writer, jester, woman…

And it’s draining and exhausting all rolled into one. Because how do I know who I am after all of that? How do I know who I’m really supposed to be when I’m supposed to be all of that at once?

Well, I was thinking about that when my sister stopped by the house the other night. It had been a few weeks since I saw her, but I relaxed into the rhythm of her driving the conversation, telling us every single detail about her life, and I slipped into my part of listening to every detail (because I’m a great listener too.)

And during this time, I had a single thought: I had forgotten what it was like to be a sister. Where you know what role you play, and so does she. You just fit together. Because that’s how it’s always been and always will be. There’s no hat to put on because you’ve been wearing it all along.

In that moment, I realized how much I missed that easy assumption. I realized how much I missed being only one thing to one person. But more than that, I realized I missed being a sister.

The good news? Any time I forget what it is like to be a sister, I can just call her up, and she’ll remind me.

Probably by stealing clothes out of my closet and making me do things “because she said so.”

But secretly? I’m looking forward to it. Just don’t tell her that.

 

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