I don’t have a sister. There’s a vacancy where a sister should be. All my life I’ve wanted a sister, and when I was a little girl I wanted one so badly that I made one up. Her name was Cookie, and she was my imaginary friend. I don’t remember how long Cookie lived with us, but I do remember that my parents were incredibly patient with me, even allowing Cookie to have her own place at the dinner table. There was distance between me and my only female cousin Marilyn, but whenever we were able to be together as youngsters, we pretended we were twins. Hilarious, because anyone who knew us as children, knew that I was tall and dark, and she was tiny and blonde, and we were Mutt and Jeff. We really wanted to be sisters.
I envy those of my friends who have sisters, which is most of my friends. They have such a strong bond, a shared history and memories. Although I don’t have a sister, I am a sister. I have brothers. Oh woe is me. Brothers are boys. They’re guys. I love my brothers dearly, but guys just don’t get it.
I have two daughters. They each have a sister! Do they love this sisterly sisterhood? Not really. It’s just too sad that they don’t take advantage of this thing I’ve yearned for all my life. I hope they figure it out before it’s too late.
A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life. ~Isadora James