A Sister by Any Other Name
Woke up on Saturday to a miniature cherry pie, inches from my face. “Look, Tharah.” The smell of Sculpey, and a 5-year-old’s lisp.
Little Sister Rosie slept over on Friday night. I don’t have any pictures of that, because we were too busy eating pasta, watching Don’t Eat The Pictures (Sesame Street classic), making “fairy money” with Sculpey, and having story time.
Then Saturday we were too busy buying produce and blueberry turnovers at the farmers’ market. Too busy being sisters, too special to try and document.
Quality time, I think that’s called.
So instead I’ll show you photos from back in May–Rosie’s 5th birthday. We sisters went out to high tea and visited the fancy toy shop at the Grand America, which is just the type of thing you do when you are three grown women and a little girl.
In this one-brother family, we keep the sisters straight with titles. Nikki is Big-Big Sister, Natalie is Middle-Big Sister, I’m Little-Big Sister, and Rosie is Little-Little Sister. Though I suppose you could also differentiate by how we look. Nikki has dark, thick, straight brown hair and brown eyes. Natalie is fair-skinned with light hair and blue eyes. I’m olive-skinned with curly brown hair and green eyes, and Rosie has tan skin, wavy dirty-blond hair and blue eyes.
You see, we come from four different fathers. Yep, a different dad for each little girl. And while Nick, Nat and I share the same mom, genetically speaking, Rosie’s mom is our step-mom. She’s a caboose baby, a test-tube zygote product of lesbian lovers, AND just as much my little sister as my mom is my mom and my right hand is my right hand.
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When I was little, I thought family’s like ours were rare, and almost never told anyone that my big sisters were actually (gasp!) my half-sisters. They never felt half-anything to me, and honestly, I rarely think about the fact that we do not share 100% mom-and-pop DNA. Unless someone happens to mention that we look nothing alike, which is true. I more closely resemble my cousin Emily.
As I get older, though, I find that lots of people have half-brothers and sisters. And they all feel the same way I do, more or less. Which is to say: proud.
Plus, you know, Rosie completes that Meg-Jo-Beth-Amy quartet that we’d always longed for.