The two women in the photo above are my younger sisters; Ina is on your left, Sandra is on the right. Ina and Sandra were born on the same date, exactly one year apart. For many years, Mama dressed them in matching outfits, as if they were twins, until the girls grew to school age and began deciding for themselves what they would wear. They shared a birthday (and a bedroom,until each left home) but they are their own separate, un-twin human beings, with separate and distinctive personalities, moods, attitudes, personal outlooks and world-views.
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When we all were kids, it fell to me, as the eldest, to take care of my younger brothers and my sisters while Mama worked. Sometimes, I resented having to do that because it meant I didn't have time to make or play with friends. I had a great deal of family responsibility at a very early age. However, those early childhood experiences helped make me the responsible person and good cook that I am today. (Didn't do anything for my housekeeping skills, though - just ask anyone!)
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Over the years, especially after we lost Mama (the glue that held the six of us together), I grew apart from the others, and our relationships have suffered for that. Sandra and I have grown closer in the last two years because we have gone through almost identical marriage problems and divorces, but my relationship with Ina still languished somewhat. So, it was with a bit of trepidation that I agreed to meet them in Morgantown, West Virginia for the weekend after Turk-enstein Day.
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(In fairness to me and my sisters, there was an even stronger reason I didn't want to take a road trip, which had nothing to do with them, at all. More about that in a different post.)
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I couldn't have been more needlessly concerned about anything in my life! Nor could I have had a more rewarding time than I had with Ina and Sandra that weekend, even though we only had about 24 hours together. We caught up on our family news, reminisced about episodes from our childhood, got lost (sort of) then found our way again while searching for one of West Virginia's last standing covered bridges, found a school bus farm, visited a reconstructed fort from the American Revolution era (see post about Tom Carson), then woke each other with our snoring through the night.
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The morning we were to leave, Ina asked if she could brush my hair (I'm letting it grow after 40 years of cutting it short; a biker-chick-wannabe fantasy - some other post, maybe.) I've never had anybody brush my hair, except Mama when I was a little kid, but I agreed. We talked about how we used to brush our mother's hair when we were kids, and how she would nod off while we did. By the time Ina finished, I felt closer to her than I have in a long, long time.
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After breakfast, where we sat talking in the restaurant long after we finished our meals, we said our goodbyes in the parking lot, pledging to meet again next fall for another sisterhood bonding event.
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I love my sisters with all my heart and am so glad I am a part of their lives. I pray that God will grant me many more years with them.
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(C) Martha McLemore
