#sistehood

[gianlucacantaro]

sisterhood at @chloe 🤗 #chloe #sistehood #fashion #pfw #paris #shotoniphone11promax https://www.instagram.com/p/B9EQPSEIxFI/?igshid=1es35sgiso0g2

[intlovesong]

“Be careful.”

I had a day that I remembered how younger me felt, from childhood as if it was yesterday, and that those emotions hung around me for long.

I take a walk with my sister in the neighborhood as much as we can.

Since I drive to work every weekday, the handle has become much more familiar than my walking legs, and I try to walk around where I live. Every time my sister and I cross the roads, I shout out without my intention. “Be careful.”

After checking both directions for running cars, my eyes follow where my sister is. And, the sentence gets spoken even before I notice myself speaking.

She only walks after me. She follows my lead, and there's no complaint. Although I know that she is careful, and there’s no need to answer what I say, I still assure her to be careful.

Two years younger than me, she became the first grader at the same school when I was in my third. We were living in this small town, and previously I attended a smaller school, closer to my house until I was bullied and isolated by the classmates. After it had got uncontrollable, I transferred to a bigger school in the city, and that was when my sister joined me.

It was a thirty-minute bus ride from our house to the school. As a third grader, I had afternoon classes so that my sister had to travel home alone. Every morning, mom gave me coins for sister’s bus ride, telling me that it was my job take her to the nearest bus stop and got her on the bus.

There was a small bus stop as the closest, a ten-minute walk away from our school. Across the street where a five-day marketplace took place, the number 20 bus stopped, took my sister and dropped her at the beginning of a narrow road that was connected to our house. My sister was smaller to her friends and couldn’t reach to the stop button herself on the bus. I asked some neighborhood Grandmas for a favor. I asked them to press the button when the bus made a big round turn passing the rice mill on its right. It was because she had to get off the bus at the next stop after the mill. Grandmas all knew who we were and where we lived, but I asked for the same favor every day. I was afraid if they would forget.

As the bus approached us, I put the coins on my sister’s palm. I might have said few more words, possibly 'sit down if you see an empty seat' or 'hold onto the bar as firm as possible if there’s no seat available.'

When my sister started her first year at school, we had our little brother for the first time in our lives. At the bus stop, grandmas recognized us as daughters of the nurse at the community health center and asked us if our youngest sibling would be a boy or a girl. I told them it was a boy, and they had the biggest smiles ever on their faces.

Sister became the second youngest in the family when we had our baby brother. Like her sister, which was me, walking her to the bus stop every day and making sure if she got on the bus safe, began to focus full attention on the brother, I wonder what she would be feeling about the change.

Time to time, my sister punched our brother with a pillow as a means of showing her jealousy. I caught it and scolded her severely. Two years, back then, felt like a huge time difference, and I acted as if I was a grown-up compared to her.

Looking back, I was the one who should be careful. I should’ve been careful about her feelings when her heart was as soft as cotton candy. I should’ve explained patiently that you both were precious younger siblings to me, but our baby brother was the youngest so that we had to take much care of him as big sisters, as a great team.

My sister still talks about those times and smiles. She tells me that I often spent her bus money on snacks in the morning and borrowed money from friends to pay her bus ride. She remembers that my friends who got ripped off by me were fond of her.

She tells mom that I always lecture her whenever we walk across streets. Listening, mom looks at us, so contently that we get along so well as sisters and we share childhood memories.

After my sister had got on the bus heading home, I felt satisfied and proud of myself as I was walking back to class. I felt like my mission was complete. I felt that I was the person who finished a vital project flawlessly.

Even now, I get curious on where my sister heads and whom she is with at times of being alone at home. I sometimes try not to ask too many questions because she is also a grown-up who gets to have her privacy in life. However, I cannot deny how relieved I feel when I hear her keys dangle and touch our front door to come home. She’s back. She’s been careful as I’ve told her to.

My sister is so good-hearted. She was, and she has been. Adding to that, the round face of hers was a symbol of blessing to every grandma in town, and they all loved her so much. Maybe that was why I felt so proud of us being sisters when I stood in front of them asking if they could take care of her on the bus, make sure that my sister got off at the right bus stop.

Ah. It’s so much possible that it wasn’t because of me doing a great job, but it was because my sister was my sister, which made me so damn proud.

[publicsecrets]

♥ Viola

  “Pode me chamar de Viola Davis“, eu disse aqui neste blogue, no post sobre o Oscar deste ano.  Lembrei disso ontem com um orgulho danado depois de assistir a esse vídeo que me comoveu até a raiz dos cabelos. Um discurso absolutamente irretocável, desde o olhar dela para a plateia antes de falar até os aplausos emocionados das…

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[gypsyunderthesun-blog]

"Growing up is hard on a friendship. There's no revelation in that. I remember my mom once told me that a good family is built for leaving, because that is what children must do. And I've wondered many times, is that also what a good friendship is supposed to be built for?"

Sisterhood Everlasting

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