This weekend is the 2nd annual sisters weekend. And I am more grateful for my sisters this year than ever.

I have three — not to mention the several heart-sisters I also claim. They are all as integral to my happiness as my sight, my hearing. Each contributes her own spark to the fire that fuels my sometimes rocky journey. They have (sometimes literally!) carried me through dark times, sheltered me in grief, and been rollicking conspirators in many a deliriously happy day. I am beyond fortunate.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate my heart brothers (and I have a few who are ineffably dear). But my blood sisters have known me since I was a goofy girl (who still lurks just beneath my rough surface!), and my heart sisters have been with me as I have grown into whatever place I am now. Most of these amazig women pre-date the few men I share my deepest friendship with. In other words, we go waaaay back.

So last year, on a whim, we all decided  to spend the weekend together at sister 3’s house, outside of Dallas. It was so much fun we vowed to do it again. This year, sister 4 had work & classes that precluded her joining us, but the other 3 of us — and a heart-sister — have spent all the weekend together. Two of us even got sister tattoos! (The four dots are the four sisters, in the infinity sign: sisters forever. Get it? 🙂 )

I am always a bit sad for singleton children. Yes, I know they get ‘all’ their parents’ attention (& money). And of course I realise not all siblings are as close as we are. But I wouldn’t trade the occasional drama (well, maybe more than just occasional) for … whatever singletons are happy to have. My mother’s elder sister used to tell her that my aunt loved her single child more than my mother loved any of us, because there was only one of him. My mother would just shake her head and laugh.

So here we are — two days into sisters weekend. So far we’ve eaten out (a LOT), shared stories (a LOT), and I’ve even been able to spend time w/ my heart-brother, sister 3’s beloved. We went to the butterfly house! Which was full of Texas native butterflies.

What my beginner’s heart knows is that I am very lucky to have such a bevy of beautiful sisters. I didn’t get a tattoo so I’ll remember — my sisters are their own indelible marks. Love is like that: coloured in with so many memories. This weekend, as my sisters tattoo begins to itch, I’m especially grateful for time we spend together, time spent colouring in more of these brilliant memories. Thank you — those here with me in Texas and those scattered around the world. Thank you for all the good times enjoyed, the hard times shared, the dark times made lighter for your love. And yes — I know I’m getting mushy. Deal with it. 😉