Kristen Friesen: Sister act

I've always loved my sisters. Really, I have. I just didn't always know it, that's all.

My mom used to say, "Just you wait! The three of you will be best friends some day!"

We thought she was crazy, and that was about the only thing upon which we agreed. The rest of the time we argued, teased, ignored, mimicked, tattled, threatened and wished the other two had never been born. 

I was the middle daughter -- sandwiched between my older sister's shadow and my younger sister's thick, brown hair. Both took turns leaving me in their dust, but my younger sister made me crazy. And that's because she was an overachiever. Still is. 

I took up the violin in fifth grade. She started too and, though only 6 years old, was better than me in no time. She got a degree in violin performance, and I quit in ninth grade. By middle school I was swimming competitively. So was she … and also diving. When I joined 4-H, she joined too. I still can't sew to save my life, but she has her own line of boutique children's clothing.

It's strange how a single day can be so memorable, how it can linger on my heart and lump in my throat long after I've learned my lesson; how a single moment can outshine or erase a million others and how, when I close my eyes and reflect upon it, I can almost feel the humidity in the air, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet or the snow on my brow ... as if it's just happening.

For me it was summer. My grandparents were visiting and my mom's lasagna was making the house even steamier. So my younger sister and I retreated to the backyard.

I'd get on the swing set, and she'd do the same. I'd go down the slide, and she'd go down backwards. I'd hang from my arms on the glider, and she'd hang upside down.

So I stomped off to do something else just as Mom called us in to eat.

"Last one to the door is a rotten egg!" I hollered.

"Help me down," she begged.

"Get down yourself!" After all, she was in gymnastics, for crying out loud!

And so she jumped off the glider ... and broke her arm ... and spent the rest of the summer in a cast.

It was a year before I could eat lasagna without crying. And, while I didn't turn into the perfect sister over night -- or ever -- I became painfully aware that I did, indeed, love my sisters. And I wondered if my mom might be right.

She was.

This past weekend was a reunion for the sisters, now best friends. That's because the overachiever just had her third baby. In our family, new babies bring sisters out of the woodwork. 

It was a hard pregnancy. She'd been sick, so we had all prayed things would go quickly. And then, when they did, we prayed for a little more time. But God was good and sweet little Samuel entered the world with a robust cry and steel grip.

And I couldn't get out of town soon enough. I cleared my schedule, drowned my flowers, sent off the dog and packed enough clothes to last all summer, just in case. I've learned from experience that it's not easy to leave a baby you've only just met -- nor a sister who needs your help.

My older sister was there, too, and, after snuggling our darling nieces and memorizing their beautiful baby brother, we both agreed that everything our little sister does is perfect. And, funny, we no longer have a problem with that.

But sisters are sisters and, about halfway through our visit, our nieces got into it. Anna, who's 5, wouldn't turn on the light for Julia, who's 3, so Julia didn't make it to the bathroom in time. And that made for the kind of unnecessary mess that puts a sleep-deprived mom right over the edge.

"Don't be too hard on them," I said. "They've had a lot to deal with lately."

But, that's easy for me to say. After all, I'm quite sure they'll be best friends one day.



Kristen Friesen is a wife and mother of three girls and lives in Grand Island. She grew up in a house on Cottonwood Drive in Lincoln, where she learned much of what she passes on in this column. Contact her at hervoice@theindependent.com.