Sisters. They grew up the same.

And so different.

The oldest spent time with mom.

Homemaking.

By the time baby girl followed brother,

Mom was just trying to make it.

Baby almost didn’t—facing death at two weeks old.

But, she was a fighter, weighing in at over four pounds.

Making her way out of that oxygen tent.

Trying to find her place in a family

That seemed complete before her.

Daddy’s little girl: the oldest.

And mamma’s boy.

Both beat her to the punch.

Oldest being the good girl—good grades, good friends, Girl Scouts.

Brother the bad boy—broken bones, broken down cars, girls and broken hearts. Then, long after parents’ marriage fell apart,

Just on the verge of manhood, brother was gone

With the flip of his car.

Sisters had grown so different.

Oldest married with boys of her own.

Baby still trying to prove her independence.

Now, they shared the loss.

Later, another—their mother.

While each wound bound the sisters

Into strict loyalty and solid friendship,

It wasn’t until the oldest sister

Had the title widow forced upon her

Like a net dropped from the tree of life

That baby began to see all she’d missed,

Like the gifts the girls had gathered

On their way to becoming women.

Sisters. They grew up the same.

And so different.

 

 

Please send me your comments! I would love to hear from you- Alice