My girls...

They've always been artists.  When they were little, William bought a van that was primer grey.  He couldn't have that, so he bought a lot of paint and let the kids, with their cousins, paint away.  I like a guy who doesn't take himself too seriously. We had everything from Star Wars to butterflies. People would actually pull out their phones and snap pictures of it.  I miss that van. This second picture is on their birthday standing in front of the art supplies.  They were a little giddy.  I know I've said it a hundred times, but I love them so much!  But then again, what mother doesn't love her children?  Don't say it.  I shudder to think.

They really are best friends.  They laugh and cry together- though I'm happy to say that when one is crying the other usually has a level head and talks the her down. They are very different in all the little details- one likes bold colors the other likes earth tones.  One likes to draw edgy pictures, the other sweet homey pictures.  Their tastes in music is different, but they tolerate the other's. They are closer than any sisters I know.  And I'd like to say, it isn't by accident.  I cultivated it and my relationship with my own sister was a cautionary tale. 

I wanted them to have what I've never had. I've always idolized the sister relationship.  I do have a sister, but we just never got along.  I've always felt she kept me at arms length. Not sure why.  The kind of relationship my daughters have has always been a dream of mine.  A friend who calls you when they have news to share.  Who you call when you need encouragement, advice or a kick in the pants.  Some one who you know you can count on no matter what. Some one who loves you no matter your differences. Two people who are involved in each other's lives.  They share.  But, alas, that didn't happen.  I have full confidence that my sister is a good person.  But I don't think she can offer me what I want.  And it's not really fair of me to expect that. And I don't think she needs anything from me. I don't have any ill will towards her- and that took years to cultivate.  I used to be so mad at her.  I'm not any more. I've just accepted that what I want and what she wants are two different things.  Unfortunately, that leaves us with no relationship at all.  I haven't a clue what she likes or doesn't like.  What's going on in her life.  She's a stranger to me.  Sad, isn't it?

 I see her once every two years. In one and a half weeks, our family reunion takes place.  It lasts a week. I guess that's why I'm thinking about this.  It's always a mystery to me about what to say to her, this stranger.  Two people who are expected to know each other.  At the least, it's awkward. I easily offend her without meaning to.  I tend to tease a lot, but she doesn't get that.  I do have a sister in law and a dear family friend who I am very close to.  We're sisters and I have with them what I really need.  I tease them.  They tease me.  We lean on each other when the times are rough.  I know what's going on with them and we talk a lot whether we see each other or not.  We laugh. So I don't feel sorry for myself because I have what I've always wanted- just not with the person I wanted. I ask myself if it matters? 

(If you've read this far... Maybe you realize that this blog is really just a journal.  Me, making a record of quilts I've made.  Life I've lived.  Working through problems and successes.  Pictures of things I don't want to forget.  I don't expect an audience and perhaps that's a very good thing.  What must you think of me?  I'm just like everyone else, living a complicated life- yep, like everyone else.)