Sisters

One of my first posts when I re-started writing "That Girl" was about girlfriends. I am blessed with some very talented, very beautiful, very loving friends. The kind you can call in the middle of the night; the kind whose children you love as if they were your own and who love your children as if they were her own. Friends who make sense of things for me and color my life in the most amazing hues - no ROY G. BIV here, we are fuchsia and chartreuse, azure and marigold! Friends aren't sisters, even though many friendships are closer than many sister-ships (ha, I see Star Trek in my head now!), for me, my friends are sisters I choose.

If you read my last post you know I wasn't always (ever?) easy. And not being easy has cost me my relationships with some of my siblings. It is their choice and, while I don't think I am the same person I was when the decision was made, I try to respect that they have their reasons. One of the those siblings is my only sister. I miss having a relationship with her, I miss easy holiday visits, or at least the idea of them. While she generously shares her daughters with me and her wife couldn't be kinder, when they last visited she and I didn't even say hello. I feel like a pretty lousy older sister that she didn't even want to say "hi."

In the last couple of months though, something really special has begun happening. I have been adopted by sisters AS a sister. Women who are funny and spiritual and truly quite lovely in every way. They adopted me because their sister loves me and I her. They accepted me with cracks and bruises and closets full of skeletons. They have offered me a haven where I will always belong. They have given me a gift that is incomparable and I don't think they know how blessed I feel. 

Thank you Irene and thank you Pam for making me a part of what is so wonderful about family. Thank you for taking me at Patrice's word. Thank you for honoring me and allowing me to call you my sisters. This is better than even being a princess!