It was only about a thousand degrees the day my sister brought me to Botanica at my request. So I could revel in the joy of taking these photographs. Which I did. We walked. We traded amazed comments. Pointed out fascinating features of this blossom or that fern. Pondered the ages of trees.
My sister waited for me. She sipped water. I took photos of things I could see
. . . and things I couldn't.
Having scuttled our plan to rise too early and rush through coffee, we didn't beat the heat. We sweltered.
Truly flippin', mop your brow,my shorts are sticking to my legs, sweltered.
When the sun hit high noon, its glare made lily pads shine like patent leather shoes on Easter Sunday. (This is "bad" light for photos, I'm told.) I rather enjoyed its stark effect.
Recalling it now, I see what a big sister/little sister moment this was. She, waiting, allowing for my delight. Me, pouncing around as if I were some master photojournalist. Both of us knowing it was just about having fun. And what really made it memorable was being there together.
I think of the paths we've walked. Together and alone. Through shadow and light. Following. Leading. Side-by-side. Doing our best to illuminate what matters. Determined to see what's out there. Clashing. Harmonizing.
Sistering.
As I took a final pass through The Shakespeare Garden, my sister headed back to the cool of the lobby to wait. "Take your time," she said. "I'm in no hurry at all."
Just listen to that. Seriously.
"Take your time. I'm in no hurry at all." How often do we hear those words?
Almost never.
Almost never.
But, in the big book of Sisterosophy, those words are golden. In a world where people seem to shout, "Hurry up I love you we're going to be late!" those words, "Take your time," proclaim sisterliness.
Because sistering takes time. Lots of time.
Because sistering takes time. Lots of time.
Coming from someone who taught me to mold pretend mashed potatoes and peas for my toy kitchen using salt/flour paste and food coloring,
sewed me the coolest dresses,
introduced me to love beads and Joe Cocker,
and festooned my hospital bed with a country-western, lasso-twirling, twangy-singing, stuffed duck that made me laugh my butt off as the antidote to trauma --
these words, I suppose, are only natural.
sewed me the coolest dresses,
introduced me to love beads and Joe Cocker,
and festooned my hospital bed with a country-western, lasso-twirling, twangy-singing, stuffed duck that made me laugh my butt off as the antidote to trauma --
these words, I suppose, are only natural.
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| my sister |
