A Sister Like Mine

This evening, I put the girls to bed at a little before 7:30, the usual time, and sat down at my computer to do a little work. After about ten minutes, I thought I heard whispering from behind their bedroom door. A few minutes later, I heard muffled laughter from Lily and delighted chirps from Annika, and I got up, walked to the door and pushed it open.

I peered in. There were pillows on the floor, and a few blankets, but I couldn't see if Lily was lying under them or was still up on the bed. The room was silent. I quietly closed the door and went back to my desk. The cycle started up again: first whispers and giggling, then actual laughter and some thumping and banging that led me to believe the trundle was being pulled out and jumped on. For some reason, although it was getting later, and I am the person who pays the price when they are overtired, I couldn't quite bring myself to be annoyed.

I got up again, tiptoed over to the door, and stuck my head in the room for the second time. The instant I did so, the room fell silent. I went back to my desk.

Although Lily and Annika have been playing together for a while now, by which I mean Annika follows Lily around and tries to be as involved as possible with whatever she's doing in an often destructive fashion, this was the first episode I had noted of organized rebellion. Somehow, although Annika is essentially preverbal, and I hadn't heard much talking even on Lily's part, a joint decision had been made that if I so much as peeped in the room, silence would ensue. How did Lily impart this strategy to Annika? Had she needed to?

Regardless, something about this dynamic, this episode, made me so happy and hopeful that I abandoned my newfound bedtime vigor and allowed them to fall asleep on their own. Lily may be in the crib, she may be on the floor; I don't really care. By 8, the room was consistently quiet, and I may or may not peek in before going to bed myself. But all I could think about as I sat listening to the sounds of their cheerful voices in cahoots was one of the saddest days of my life many years ago when I called my own sister because of everyone in the world, she is the person I feel safest being sad with. She listened to me, offered consolation and advice, told me in no uncertain terms that no matter what, I would be okay. I hung up, feeling infinitely better than I had been feeling and immediately realized I had forgotten to tell her something. I called back.

She answered the phone--this was in the days before caller ID--and was crying so hard she could barely manage to speak. When she realized it was me again, she tried to pull herself together, but it was too late.

And I will always remember this. That in spite of the many times and ways my sister has made me apoplectic with anger, when I needed one person in the world to make me believe the world was not going to fall apart, she did so, and she suppressed her own sadness, at mine, at the situation, at sadness in general, until she knew she had succeeded.

When I catch these glimpses of Lily and Annika building this bond, even as Lily rejects Annika's advances, Annika hits Lily on the head with a pot lid, I know that in this, at least, I have done good. I hope for as few moments of profound sadness for these girls as is humanly possible. But when they come, I hope for each of them--feel optimistic for each of them--to have a sister like mine.