Defining Sisterhood

Afrika and Bootsie

I am the youngest child in my family, and like most youngest children, I longed for a younger sibling. It wasn't so I would have someone to boss around, though. My oldest sister, Bootsie, is nine years older than me, and she was such a loving big sister. We shared a room for years, and though I'm sure that was probably way more fun for me than it was for her, she never made me feel that way. I loved watching her, listening to her sing along with Stevie Wonder and Phyllis Hyman, sneaking looks at the books in her library (I learned A LOT about Our Bodies, Ourselves ;), and sleeping in her bed when I was scared. I remember how she took care of me - so sweet, gentle, and protective. She made being a big sister something I wanted to be, too.

I never did have younger siblings of my own, but I learned that God can satisfy the longing in my heart in creative and unexpected ways. I was almost 13 when Bootsie's oldest child, Gabrielle, was born. Her first few months were challenging, because she had colic. But that's not what I most remember about her.

I remember holding her, playing with her and being captivated by the love in her eyes when she looked up at me. I remember putting Mr. Bubble in her baths, watching Sesame Street with her, and making her tuna fish sandwiches. I remember turning on the tape recorder so we'd always be able to remember her singing all the songs and saying all the words she knew - even phrases from commercials ("Have you shopped Strawberry today?" and the Food Emporium song, "Someone made a store just for meeeee."). Our time together exploring words and phrases were captured in her baby book, and cassette tape . . . including Gabrielle weeping slowly, and saying, "I'm tired!" when I asked her to talk and sing for too long. I definitely could have benefitted from a babysitting class or two. I didn't mean to frustrate her - I was just so fascinated by watching this beautiful little person grow and learn. I shared with her what I knew best. Words.  

Peek-a-Boo Gabby

"People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize; a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black curious eyes of a child - our own two eyes. All is a miracle." - Thich Naht Hanh, quoted in Life as a Verb by Patti Digh

On vacation in Virginia Beach

Gabrielle was my introduction to true wonder and joy - my blue sky and my clouds. I got to see the world again through everything she noticed and learned. Before Gabrielle, I didn't know what it was like to change diapers, give a child a bath, do a little girl's hair, make her laugh, answer lots of questions, be a role model, and to also feel the horror and powerlessness that you experience when someone you want to protect is in harm's way (I still remember vividly when she stuck her hand into the trash and gashed her fingers on the edge of an open can, and when she was choking on an unnaturally long lo mein noodle, and I didn't know how to help her). It is a vulnerable and wonderful thing to love a child. Our relationship laid the foundation for the kind of mother I've chosen to be.  

When I narrate, when I create characters, when I write their dialogue, when I create their circumstances, I go back to places in my memory that help me to connect to the characters' thoughts, feelings, experiences, desires, hopes, and dreams. Do I need to actually be a big sister in order to write from the perspective of a big sister? I don't think so. Though I never had a younger sibling, I have always loved Gabrielle like a little sister. Because of my relationship with Gabrielle, I can write from the perspective of a big sister even though I've never enjoyed that title. Remembering all the things I have learned and experiences I've enjoyed in my relationship with her is a great place to begin.