Ode to My Sisters

ode n. a lyric poem, typically addressed to a particular subject, with lines of varying lengths and complex rhythms, a poem meant to be sung. So goes the Collins definition of the word, and I think it is pretty appropriate for my three sisters for each is a poem in her own right. My sister, Joyce, gave me Chicken Soup for the Sister's Soul for Christmas and in reading it, I have thought long and lovingly about my own sisters and my relationship with each of them, wonderful women that they are. So, here's my 'ode' to them:

Being the oldest I have had the advantage of watching all of my sisters from the time they were babes, and, yes, I've even changed most of their diapers, so my mothering instincts clicked in early. At nine, I remember my father coming home one joyous Sunday and announcing we had a baby sister, the first for me who already had eight brothers. I was ecstatic! When he announced her name a couple of days later, however, I was a little miffed because I had expected to be consulted on the choice. She was MY sister, after all. Nevertheless, her homecoming and subsequent years were a joy to me. I don't ever remember fighting with her, although she may have different memories, but what I do remember is her sunny smile, her quiet joyful manner, her sliding around outside on her seat and propelling herself with her legs on the gravel driveway so much so that her little white high-top leather shoes wore out on the sides. (She didn't walk until she was 22 months!)

Joyce is today that same steadfast sibling, that person to whom I can tell my soul and she listens. She doesn't judge. She listens and commiserates and gives good advice. She is quiet but she is strong. When our mother was dying, Joyce is the one who, nurse that she is, talked to Mom of her difficult choices and I stood in awe at her strength. And she repeated that strong role with our brother, Ross, last year. She is an amazing person. I am lucky she is my sister.

When I was in grade nine our family was again blessed by another girl whose zest for life was shown early on. Our bright light, Linda--the Spanish word for pretty--showed early on that she was a force, a doer, an achiever, afraid of nothing. In my mind's eye I see her sitting on the beach at Grand Bend, a tiny blonde year-and-a-half baby who had crawled to the water's edge and then was delighted when the waves gurgled up around her. She took her sand pail and filled it with water and then dumped it over her head. We older children joined in soaking her over and over as she squealed in delight. Somewhere in our family archives that picture preserves the day. Today Linda is still delighting in a million different things, living every drop life has to offer. Musician, mother, wife, horsewoman, sportswoman, gardener--she does it all and delights in it. I love when she saves some soft-side comment for me and makes my day.

My youngest sister, Donna, was born after I had started university so my memories of her are different but still wonderful. One weekend I was home from university and my parents had gone away overnight. I was to sleep in their bed with Donna's crib alongside so that I would hear her if she woke up. If? She must have sensed they were gone as she woke over and over and I got very little sleep that night. I held her close, her tiny head snuggled into my neck, as her sobs softened and stopped. Then I would put her back in bed, snuggle down myself and drift off to sleep. A few minutes later, she would be crying again and I would repeat. That was a long night but I still feel the satisfaction at being able to comfort her tiny hurts. Today she is making an unusual life for herself as she fearlessly works in the entertainment industry. She is a singer, pianist, actor, and self-promoter, who is just finishing up a tour with the Disney cruise ship out of Port Canaveral. We have discovered a new relationship writing--e-mailing--each other because we are usually far apart. When I read her words, I am very glad that she is my sister and I marvel that now she comforts me.

So, you see, my sisterly relationships have been much different than those mentioned in Canfield's book, but still one of the most significant forces in my life. These sisters are the ones who intuitively understand me, since they come from the same place. We share that bond which has made us who we are and which informs our lives today.

Thank you, my sweet and wonderful sisters of the vast and varied complex rhythms. You are most definitely poems set to music and, today, I sing of you.