There are a lot of things that have happened in my life that I find so dreadfully normal. It’s only when people give me a strange look after delving into a piece of my life that I realize not everyone has experienced the same things I have. One of those experiences is having sisters close in age.
I’ve started to notice that the bond among three sisters is unlike anything else. Not many people out there understand that while it may seem like we’re being mean to each other, we’re actually showing just how much we care. When we were around the ages of 9 and 11, my older sister, Saidee, and I would get ready for school Monday mornings at our dad’s house.
The morning went down exactly the same every Monday we were at our dad’s. My dad would leave for work, and Saidee and I would stand side-by-side in our bathroom trying to look at ourselves in the mirror as we got ready. She would push me a little to get a better look at her mascara.
I would shove her back to spit my toothpaste out, and in a snap, we were in an all-out physical brawl. Eyeliner would be smeared on my sweatshirt as she called me “ugly,” and I would shove her down the stairs and call her “fat.” Then the doorbell would ring, and my grandma would be there with Burger King mini-cinnabons ready in the car to take us to school.
The first stint of the drive would be a bit silent, then we would be dipping our cinnamon rolls in the same package of icing as we giggled about something the other said. It was.