seeeeester mine

My sister and I? We have a quirky relationship. She's my sister, sharer of my genes, sharer of my childhood experiences, with just enough space between us that I was always trying to surpass her. (Isn't that part of siblings too?) She was the good kid, the bookworm. I was the boundary tester. Always. (Although also a bibliophile).

We're quick to ignite, pushing each other's buttons.  We snap quickly at each other. 

But our nearly weekly phone calls are part of the integral fabric of my life. We talk about nothing, we talk about everything. Topics from dinner to silliness to the serious. The inside jokes that come from shared lifetimes. 

El Bandito commented, years ago, that my sister and I have a better relationship over the phone than in person. He's correct, though I think much of the failing is in my quick temper.

It's unlikely she'll ever read this. But "Call your seeester day" never seems quite right without that contact, even though both of us are busy enough that Sunday mornings skip past unnoticed sometimes. This past weekend, they were traveling. The weekend before, we caught up only briefly. 

I'm sure, in a few weeks, when we're on shared familiar turf for the holidays, discombobulated by the return to childhood surroundings, we'll be sniping at each other as always.  So tonight, I'm taking a few minutes to be truly grateful that I have a loving sister. That our arguments and insults are truly trivial.  I'll get cranky soon enough!