Sisters
Monday, February 22, 2010 at 5:12PM Josephine sat in front of a large plate brimming with lunch treats: a gooey grilled cheese on wheat, chips, fruit and tomato soup.
Her older sister sat directly across from her. With the same meal.
Josephine ordered her food after Esme. It was impossible to know, initially, whether she picked it because she craved a grilled cheese or because she wanted to be like her sister.
But, after watching her finish the food, I'm quite sure I know.
I took Esme and Josephine to the mall yesterday. I needed to get my MacBook checked out. Needed to get the girls new shoes and me new underwear. I wanted time alone with the two of them.
A trip for "the ladies," I called it.
Esme grabbed my hand in hers as we walked past the stores. Josephine saw... and grabbed my other.
Esme hopped on and off the escalators. At one point, she mixed up her feet so badly she flung her body to the railing and held on like a frog struggling to pull itself on to a lilly pad it narrowly missed. Josephine tried to hop on without help too. But fell back on me for safety.
We talked about a store clerk curling her hair (weird) and bought sale dresses for Easter (score). Josephine chose the same one as Esme.
When we finally sat down to our meals, I took the seat next to Esme, on the other side of the table from Josephine. It was the perfect spot to watch her. What I saw blew my heart to bits.
Her chin barely rose two inches above the table. She looked like a tiny round face behind her gargantuan meal. Three years old but such a baby still.
She tucked right in to her grilled cheese then, after several bites, I saw her cast a quick glance to her big sister. Esme was using her spoon to try the soup. Josephine picked hers up and did the same. Esme winced at the heat. Josephine scrunched her face too.
Esme dipped her potato chip in the soup. Josephine looked at her soup, picked up a chip and dipped hers.
She mimicked nearly every movement. But not in a self-conscious way. She never saw me staring at her.
Josephine is a mover. She finds it hard to sit still. So, even when she's listening to a book or eating or doing something that requires her to stay in one spot, she's usually moving a leg or a foot or turning her head from side to side. That's what she was doing in the booth. Looking at people and plants and things in the cafe... while stealing looks at her sister to see what she was doing. Then doing the same thing herself.
Esme never noticed her mirror image. Or if she did, she never let on.
Esme stretched her neck and peered over the booth wall to watch a mother and two daughters in the corner. A family like ours. Except the girls were all grown up. Josephine got to her knees and looked too.
And that's when I couldn't ignore what was going on any longer. "You know Esme," I said. "Your little sister loves you."
Josephine chomped on her grilled cheese and continued to spy on the family over the wall. She didn't turn to listen to me. I'm certain she didn't hear me.
I went on to tell Esme that little sisters look up to their older sisters. They want to be like them, dress like them, act like them. They want desperately to be loved by them.
I've always felt an uncanny connection to Esme, an unusual bond perhaps born of her trauma at birth or maybe shared personalities. But yesterday I watched Josephine imitate her big sister with adoration and admiration and heartbreaking vulnerability and I knew her. Knew her intimately and immediately as one little sister to another.
"Be kind to your sister," I told Esme. "Please don't break her heart."
Reader Comments (5)
Thank you for this beautiful post. I'm a proud 26 year old sister to a 22 year old and this post made me feel lovely. I've never broken her heart.
This really hits home for our family. Very sweet post!
L
Thank you.
I very much wanted to be like my big sister. I copied everything she did, I dressed like her, I acted like her, and as she got older, I tried desperately to hang out with her and her friends. Then one day, when I was in high school, I realized I had been duped. My sister was not the cool girl I thought she was. She wasn't a bad person, but she just wasn't what I thought. And from that point on, I rebelled. Yes, I rebelled against my sister, not my parents. I did the opposite of everything that she did. Some of that got me into trouble, some of that made me the person I'm proud to be today. At that point, I wasn't completely heartbroken by it. Because I still looked up to her, I still respected her 100% for what she did with her life and her smarts and her good looks. And then, about 2 months after my daughter was born, when she was pregnant with her son, I actually lost my respect for her altogether. Her "strong woman" facade hid a woman who was desperately trying not to care that her husband wasn't there for her and her desperate need for a child so someone would love her unconditionally overtook her logic in knowing that she and her husband (she was in school and her husband worked for the church) had no money whatsoever to raise a child. She has since begged, borrowed, guilted my parents into giving, and all but stolen in order to help raise her child. I no longer look up to her because I know I have my life together and she does not. I actually feel sorry for her. And want to protect her and take care of her. I want to help save her from the mess she's gotten herself into. Its amazing what a change the meaning of the title "little sister" can take. Its a sad, sad story. I wish she could have lived up to the person I thought she was when I was 8 years old. But its true. Little sisters really really love their big sisters. And I don't think that story will ever disappear.
I love my brother, but always wanted a sister! Now I have three girls and I'm so glad they have each other. They'll be there for each other when they start dating and get married and have kids. Most importantly they have each other to exchange eye rolls with as I age and dribble into my soup.