Surprises

Thursday afternoon I went to the post office. For most this is a normal everyday occurrence, for me it happens once in a blue moon – and yes I have a post office box. My rarity in picking up our post drives some people crazy. My husband because he misses his flyers from the men’s toy store, Sears; people who live and die over their junk mail; and probably those people who send me things that require either a phone call or a thank you note (I’m really bad at thank you notes.)

Thursday’s mail held three weeks of junk mail, credit card aps, a few bills, a book I ordered from Amazon, and a box – a big box that came all the way from Georgia. My birthday had come and gone and this box sat as a reminder of my 53rd milestone. My sister in law had packed it with a kewl partridge, earrings, cocoa, s’mores, a table runner, two Christmas ornaments that will hold pictures of Burp, and one of these kewl little tablets that I love to carry in my purse (ha, ha I hate carrying my purse, but if I am the tablet is a must have.)

The surprising birthday box required a thank you phone call and it had been a while since I’d touched bases with the Kiwi and Buddy. Sometimes, when I actually think about calling, the time difference keeps me from dialing. But I was well within my time limits. The first 45 minutes I chatted with the Kiwi, her accent is so cute but once in a while I can’t wrap my head around a word she says and the sentence is lost. Then I chatted with Buddy. Our lives are so different, but I miss them, I don’t think they will be returning to Oregon when he retires.

After hanging up I started thinking about my sister. Pinecone had left me a birthday message on my cell and I’d not called her back. Yes, folks the mail gets picked up more often than I call my siblings. The really sad part of this is I enjoy talking with my sister, she’s a hoot, and while our lives are very different she always feels like home to me. We discussed all sorts of things for over an hour… oh she called me. That happens often I will think about calling her and the phone rings. We’re connected that way.

Being raised independent has its features we were and are encouraged to make our own paths, our own families, our own traditions. But it also means that when you marry you hopefully meld your independence into your spouse’s family beliefs and traditions. My husband has a hard time understanding that Pinecone (or my daughter) and I don’t talk to each other at least twice a day or even twice a week. His family must get together every holiday, he chose Thanksgiving to do with his siblings and aunt (we are almost always the ones that travel,) and we spend Christmas at home, they are all welcomed but we do not travel. I don’t have to live in my sister’s pocket, I am comfortable with who I am, with who she is. I feel my sister with me all the time, and we are both happy in our lives.

But yes there are times when I miss my sister. This is funny considering I made her life holy hell growing up. But there were the times that we were a cohesive unit too. She has been there for me during my very dark hours and shared her brightest moments with me. Isn’t that what sisters are all about?

Sith,
Cele