The manifestation of sisterly love

“Yes, I’ll braid your hair. No, you can’t borrow my shoes. Yes, I'll help you with math. No, you can’t hang out with me and my friends. Yes, I’ll miss you. No, it won’t be long.”

I’ve been told that you can tell that I’m the youngest sibling in my family many times. I can’t say I disagree with these assumptions; I have described my bedroom floor as “organized chaos” from time to time. What I really get a kick out of is that after people have – albeit accurately – guessed my place in the birth order, I get to tell them that I am actually the youngest of four girls. The usual responses follow: “wow, that must be interesting,” “gosh, imagine all the hair!” and my favourite, “your poor dad!” (He’s fine. I think.). Again, none of these assumptions are technically wrong. We do spend half our time fighting about some truly menial things and I can’t honestly say I have a sweater that isn’t covered in hair. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t change any of it for the world. 

The age gap between my sisters and I is an odd one. Maria, the oldest, is nine years older than me. Ana Luisa, the second oldest, is seven years older than me. Claudia, the one closest in age to me, is still five years older. If you’ve just done the math in your head, yes, I was an accident. Still, I like to think my dynamic with each of them is unique.

Maria always says I was like her firstborn child that she would care for every day, which is entirely untrue. She was nine and this isn’t Shameless. But I know I can always go to her for life advice. To my amusement, I sometimes think that, to Ana Luisa, I was just this strange little companion that she could carry around with her if friends failed, as many of our memories together are at nail salons and shopping malls - not that I’m complaining. And yes, though she may cringy to admit it now, I was Claudia’s sworn enemy for many, many years. We used to spend our days at each other's necks, although I do think this has shaped how close we are today. Through all of this, I considered my sisters to be an extension of me. I wasn’t Sofia without the existence of Maria, Ana Luisa, and Claudia.

The world without them in it just did not make logical sense. However, I would have to come to the sad realization that there would have to be a world without them when Maria first moved away to university. I was nine at the time, and although she was only going to Montreal (a six-hour flight away from our home in Vancouver), it felt as though she had gone for good. I would stare blankly at the dinner table, wondering why it felt emptier than usual, before remembering. This only continued when Ana Luisa moved away to university when I was eleven. This time it would be a much longer flight, as Ana Luisa was moving to the east coast of Scotland to study Medicine at St. Andrew’s University (show off). After Maria had moved away, Claudia moved into her room - she was understandably sick of being fourteen and having to share a room with her nine-year-old sister - so I didn’t venture into Maria’s old room as much. But, when Ana Luisa moved away, her room was left vacant. On days when I missed her, I would go into her room and sit on the windowsill for a while, admiring how her posters hung, the old books on her desk, and how her bed was still made up for when she came back. Maybe now and then I would have a peek in the closet, just in case she left any good items behind. Anything I could comprehend that seemed so uniquely her, just to imagine that maybe she was still there, inhabiting that room. Still, the house increasingly felt more and more empty. Dog walks became a singular activity if my parents or Claudia were busy. The dinner table had one more empty place. Two years later, I graduated Grade 7, and Claudia moved out to come to Queen’s. I was officially the last one in the house. 

It was a strange transition at first. Having to catch the bus home because Claudia couldn’t pick me up. Watching TV in a completely silent house - no jabs at what show I was watching or how many episodes I had accidentally watched in a row. And now, I ventured into Maria and Claudia’s old rooms, seeing both of them in paintings on the walls and noticing their leftover shot glass collections on the shelf. My parents both worked full-time jobs, and I increasingly found the dog and I sitting in peaceful silence most days. Now, I can remember when I was about 8 years old and wishing for just a moment of peace from the bickering, and the blow-drying, the screaming, and the singing. But finally having that silence, I realized, also came at the cost of a childlike happiness I didn’t know I had until it was gone.

I want to point out that this is in no way a dig at my parents. I think we became much closer in the years since my sisters moved out. We spent more time and did more meaningful things together. Honestly, after years of only taking up ¼ of their time (if that), it was nice to have them to myself for a while, as crazy as they sometimes drive me. Yet, I still find myself thinking that there is no replacement on Earth for the bond one has with a sister. Friends can try all they want to replicate it, but there is nothing as unique as the relationship between sisters. 

As I think it over, I begin to remember all of the things my sisters have taught me to enjoy over the years. Enjoy trips to the beach. Enjoy time with friends. Enjoy looking up at the stars at night. Enjoy any new adventures – good or bad – thrown your way. I decided it was time to teach myself something: enjoy time with loved ones, as we can be connected but not always close. It is a common thing to realize that one must never take time with loved ones for granted. But what I realized was that I should never take time with my sisters for granted, because it would be a great dishonor to everything they have done for me. Once they leave to lead their separate lives, I could very well choose to become a sad shell of myself until they return. Or, I could choose to live life using the lessons they taught me. In this way, I still keep them with me everywhere I go, and in the process, I make myself a better person. To sit around and long for the days when we all lived under the same roof is a waste – instead, I must live the way they did at my age, and remember who it was that taught me that snitches always get stitches. To miss a loved one is one thing, but to honour them is an entirely different, much more rewarding experience. 

And yet, this is not a sad story. My sisters are going out and making the best of their lives, and I intend to follow in their impressive footsteps. They are three of the most powerful, beautiful, funny women in my life, and they continue to inspire me every single day. Though FaceTime can work its magic on certain occasions, I am always counting down the days to when I will see them next. So, to my dear and daft sisters: I miss you, I love you, and if I ever catch you raiding my closet, you’re dead.