Sisters

I love my sisters.  Growing up, we were pretty close.  We had to be, since we were homeschooled, for several years we were together constantly.  And my parents made sure we participated in family game nights on Fridays, and yard work together at least a few Saturdays each month.  (I was never a big fan of working in the yard, but as an adult I treasure those times that I spent with my family.)   We made stuff together, did chores together, played silly games together.

And then I turned 16 and got a job, and we didn’t really play much anymore.  But we still did a lot of things together.

Then I grew up, and went off to college 3 hours away.  I missed my family, but we still got to see each other a lot since weekend trips were easy to make.  And then I met my husband in school, and we were married.  And I finished school, and had a baby, and then we moved back to his hometown, seven hours away from my family.

Seven hours.  It essentially takes a day to drive to visit my family, and a day to drive back.  That’s not a weekend trip.  It requires several days.  Several days- that means my husband taking time off of work if he goes, or my going without him. But its ok, since we are able to make it work about two-three times a year.

And then my sisters also grew up.  Sister 3 is married – I meet her husband at the wedding.  And she has a baby, a beautiful daughter.  I get to see her when she is 3 months old, and then again after she has turned a year old.  But we have the internet, so we send each other photos of our kids.  And I better understand why my parents and sisters are always asking for pictures of my son – seven hours is far, and kids grow up fast.

After several visits my niece remembers me.  Then sister 3 has a second daughter (who still doesn’t know who I am.)  And then sister 2 is married.  I get to meet her husband once before the wedding, as well as sister 4′s now serious boyfriend.

And here I am.  Seven hours away.  It really isn’t that far anymore – I can chat and text and call and send pictures in an instant.  But its not the same as being there.  We share recipes and craft ideas and stories about the kids and each other in a way that wouldn’t have been possible 150 years ago.  But its still seven hours away.

I love my husband dearly, he is my closest friend.  I have no regrets about the decisions that brought us to live where we live.  But sometimes I just wish we could be closer to my family, because I miss my parents and sisters.

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