Sisters are where you find 'em

Texans--and probably most Southerners--have interesting habits of annexing folks into their families. All sorts of fictional relationships can get created because of relative age status, proximity, distant marriages, and such. I have had "Aunts" who were really cousins, but who were sufficiently older than I that my mother decided that it was inappropriate for me to call them by their first name without the honorific of "Aunt So-and-So." I have had "Aunts" who weren't related by blood or marriage, but who were sufficiently close enough friends of the family to deserve the honorific of "Aunt So-and-So," even though it took me years to figure out how they weren't really my relatives. Still, that often made their children my "cousins."

Perhaps one day I'll sit down to try to figure out for myself how really big and diverse "all my family" really is and talk about my "brother," the "child of my heart," my pseudo-grandchildren, and the really interesting addition of my husband's step-siblings. For now, however, I want to focus on my "cousin" who is more like a "sister."

When I was 9 years old, we moved to a much nicer house than the tiny little post-war housing that had been my home for much of my life. This move put me in a new school district, so I had to make all the transitions associated with that. One more or less comforting thing about the move is that my parents bought a house right next door to some old family friends. The couple next door were, of course, called "Aunt" and "Uncle." Both had come from the little part of East Texas where Mama grew up, and they had all dated and gone to church together forever.

Of the two (and eventually three) children next door, all, again "cousins," the oldest daughter was closest to my age. We had played together and gone to church together when we lived in the old neighborhood. We saw each other frequently at family events, because two of her uncles had married two of my aunts--and family reunuions and special occasions meant everybody was invited. So we knew each other, loved each other before the move to the new house--and I was really glad to have a friend in the new neighborhood.

My "cousin,"--let's call her Louise--is about 18 months older than me. Because of the peculiarities of the school years of the two school districts, I either had to skip half a grade or go back half a grade when we moved. Happily, my parents opted to get me moved up in school, so I entered the new elementary school with a slightly older crowd of schoolmates. It was good to have Louise around--now just one grade ahead of me--to help me fit in a little better.

The thing about Louise was that she was also the closest thing that I would have to a sibling. We spent the night at each other's house. We borrowed things from each other. We eventually had to have a little sibling rivalry. Well, a lot of sibling rivalry. I was certainly jealous of the things she got to do. I was jealous of her clothes. She was definitely prettier than me. And--here's the kicker--she got piano lessons. Oh, how I wanted a piano! How I wanted to be able to play one. How many hours I spent trying to teach myself on Louise's piano to play "Swans on the Lake."

Junior high and high school led us into slightly different circles of friends. Her parents decided to stay at the old church in our old neighborhood. My mother chose a church closer to our new home. Louise and I both sang in the school choir, but I was taking a heavy load of science and language classes, while Louise was preparing herself to major in music. And those 18 months meant a lot during the teen years. She could date a long time before my father ever decided to let me out of the door in the company of raging male hormones.

But the close bond was still there. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding. She was matron of honor in mine. I was matron of honor in her second wedding. At some point we decided not to jinx each other any more, so I didn't attend her third wedding and she didn't attend my second one. Those were the weddings that were winners for both of us, so we still occasionally thank each other for staying home.

Those early marriages were tough ones, more so for her than for me. I still sometimes shudder to think what this gentle woman had to suffer. Physical abuse and outright terrorism from the first. Mental abuse from the second. And I still keep an eye on the third husband--just to make sure. I was off being a student and researcher for those early marriages. So I still sometimes kick myself that I was too absorbed in my own life to be around for her in those days.

These days we see each other rather rarely. As often as I go back to my hometown--to see my mother, to do some work--Louise lives on the other side of a really big city and has quite a busy life herself. We sometimes see each other around holidays. Sometimes we're lucky and can fit in an afternoon here and there.

This last trip to Houston was extra special. I went in the middle of the week to do a workshop. Just by luck, I found Louise's younger sister at home next door (the Aunt and Uncle have died and the younger sister now lives there--but is out and about quite a bit). It's November already, and I still hadn't been able to make the connection that would get last Christmas' presents delivered. (Yes, that sound weird, but we do things that way.) So I found the younger sister, dragged her over to Mama's house to pick up the presents, and sent my love to Louise.

What fun that Baby Sister called Louise, who immediately called me to find out how long I would be in town. Unfortunately, not long. So we decided that she would come to Mama's to spend the night after she got through with her busy day. (I said that this husband was a good one, didn't I?)

Louise timed her arrival just right, so I got to see the end of Survivor. And then the fun began. We had not seen each other for more than a year. I think the last time we were together was the family reunion in May, 2003. We had lots to catch up on. My health. Her health. My family. Her family. The election. Her jaunts around the country and England. The new movie stars she had met. (She was excited that she had met Pierce Brosnan; I was much more impressed that she had hung out with Vincent DiNofrio.) My work, which is ever so much more boring than the fun she's been having. Plans for retirement.

It's in the nature of our relationship that long absences don't stop the flow of talk or affection. There's never a need to offer excuses about why the Christmas presents didn't get delivered for 11 months. (Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's her. [Shrug.]) It's in the nature of the relationship that we can talk about taking a road trip together and each lay out exactly what our little foibles and non-negotiable quirks are likely to be, swearing that we will each accommodate the other's "issues," and knowing that we will have a blast--just being together.

We talked until 4 in the morning--which made our marathon about 8 hours long--and could have talked for more if we weren't two middle aged women who need to sleep at some point.

I think this must be what it's like to have a sister. I think I'm very lucky to have Louise for a sister.