sisterhood

I have always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. 

My mom and I went to Home Depot last night to run some errands, and I wandered around in the garden section for a while, eventually stumbling upon the two gorgeous pink roses pictured above. They were growing side by side. Rosy sisters. Something struck my heart in that moment. Perhaps it was longing, or a little bit of remembrance for my younger self, who always begged and wished for a sister. Or maybe it was a little twinge of something else entirely, a nameless emotion tied to seeing something simple and beautiful. 

I grew up with 3 marvelous brothers whom I love deeply, and friends and cousins that I attached myself to as a surrogate sister. I always envied my friends who had sisters, and would chide them when they fought because I couldn't comprehend fighting with a beloved sister. As I've grown up and my siblings and siblings-in-law have gotten married, I have even gained sisters-in-law, which is such a delightful bonus to my collection of siblings.

Funnily enough, every sister-in-law I have is just like me: we all grew up without any sisters. It strikes me as very strange and kind of lovely. What are the odds? We are a gaggle of sisterless women who love each other all the more because we are each other's first experiences with sisterhood. 

Dress (remixed 1, 2): Ruche

Star Sweater: remixed

Don't get me wrong: many of my friends have been like sisters to me over the years. I do not belittle those relationships in any way. I had several "sisters" growing up that I still love and cherish. They allowed me to share my room and giggle over secrets. And my sisters-in-law expanded that realm of relationship even further, filling up our family and making it more of a girl's club!

Even so, I realize that there is a very real question tucked away in the stitches of my being that will never be answered. I'll never know what it's like to have a real sister. Which in many ways is fine, because as they say, ignorance is bliss. I don't really understand the intricacies of what I'm missing. It's not a devastating or a heartbreaking thought, it's just something that I know to be true.
There are positive influences to growing up entirely with brothers, too. I owe so much of myself to them. My interests and many aspects of my personality. I think it's possible that I am the friend that I am because I never had any sisters.

In one of my favorite parts of the movie In Her Shoes, Maggie is trying to explain her sister Rose to her husband-to-be, Simon. The first half of the movie is very dark and sad, illustrating the strain and heartbreak that has wedged the two sisters apart. Maggie is basically telling Simon that her little sister is irresponsible, frustrating, immature, selfish - and that he'll end up begging her to throw her out of their lives.

But I won't. Because she's my sister. Without her, I don't make sense. 

That part always makes me cry, mostly because of the restorative nature of forgiveness and the steadfast love and loyalty that is inherent in sisterhood. I have been blessed to know and love many sisters in the world, catching a peek at what that relationship is really like. I know I get glimpses of it. 

I shall continue assigning myself as a surrogate sister to the many kindred spirits in my life, knowing that sisterhood is a beautiful thing, in every form. 

frumpy {frocktober, day 13}

I lightly complained about having a cold yesterday but today's elevated cold kicks yesterday's in the tush.

I feel completely wrung out, and this morning my nose was so clogged up I couldn't even taste my pumpkin spice creamer which was basically the cherry on top of a rather crappy morning.
I went through an hour-long meeting trying not to be a sneeze monster, resorting to discreetly wiping my runny nose on my sweater sleeve. I've totally grossed you out now. I'm so sorry.

Did I mention I was leading the meeting, and that "discreetly" is more of a wish than a fact?
An unfortunate tendency I have when I have a cold is to be incredibly stuffy for about an hour or two, and then be violently seized with a conga line of sneezes. Usually a dozen, loud and unstoppable. I can try to stop them, but that just hurts my already pained face. The sneezes are somewhat of a relief, but they just keep coming. Afterward I usually feel like I did after I got my wisdom teeth out. Where am I. 

One time I was seized by one of these awful episodes while driving on the freeway and I suddenly became very aware of how life-threatening a sneeze attack can really be.

All of that to say, I am wearing dresses that feel more like pajamas and taking great comfort in stories. When I'm sick all I want to do is read or binge-watch my favorite TV shows. I'd love to just lounge around in a cotton gown in front of a fireplace like Danielle de Barbarac, but I'll also settle for the little patio setup of twinkle lights we created for my birthday party. I just started listening to an audiobook of The Cuckoo's Calling by Robert Galbraith (a pseudonym for J.K. Rowling!) and am really enjoying it so far.

I've also been diving back into The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt. It's a rather stunning story, full of the great mysteries of Venice, Italy. It's a true story but it reads like fiction, full of strange characters and a rather charming (and occasionally baffling) look at the intricacies of Venetian existence. I'm pretty enamored with it. Because I've been there, reading this has been giving me an even greater appreciation and understanding of the city. It is so unique.

I'm so happy to have the actual book in my hands, because I can mark my pages and underline passages and loan it to other people. I love my Kindle and Audible apps but there's still nothing like an actual hardcover books in your hands - especially when it's one you love. I endeavor to someday have a beautiful hardcover bookshelf of my favorite reads.