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The Sisterhood


My dear girls, 


I always knew I wanted to be a mother. However, the thought of having boys terrified me because I had zero experience dealing with them other than my husband. But I was actually looking forward to the idea of being a boy-mom. When they told us we were having a girl, we were so happy, a girl I could picture, girls I understand; princesses, unicorns and rainbows. After I had Julieta and being so far away from family, I started thinking about a sibling for her, someone to keep her company, someone she could play with and understand what she was going through. When we knew we were having another girl, I was over the moon excited; I could picture you growing up like my sister, and I did, and I couldn't think of anything better than that. 

My sister was born when I was three and a half years old. I have blurry memories of her as a baby, but once she could walk, we were inseparable. She was the ying to my yang; we were part of the same and, at the same time, so different. We used to get into fights all the time, but then we also used to keep each other company and stick up for each other, keep secrets, and always be there. My sister, on occasion, would fight my battles, even though I was older than her. She would face my school bullies and tell them off; she would push, kick or whatever was needed to make room for me, to make me feel comfortable. I admired her so much; she was fearless, unapologetic, beautiful, and fierce. 

She is all those things still, but so much more, too. We grew up and faced all our family's problems together; sometimes, it felt that nobody else would understand what I was going through except my sister. We had an unspoken way of communicating; nods, noises, facial expressions; we knew each other so well, and we liked being around each other. I always shared a room with my sister, which never felt like an imposition. I never asked for my own space, even when I was mad at her. 

Now I live in another country, and she lives in another city. When we visit home, sometimes we miss each other. Regardless of the distance, we are still close. She is still one of my first calls if something goes wrong. She is the one I call when I feel like running away, yelling, or crying. She holds the key to my past; she knows me, everything I have faced, any sickness and any heartache, and yet she still knows me as I am today. When I talk to her, I think of what a good friend she is, what a resilient woman she is, and what a caring person she is, how different our lives are now and yet I know her, what she is made of, what hurts, what makes her feel joy, how to push her buttons; she knows me, my anxiety, my pressures, my mom-guilt, my reasoning, my internal fights and my dreams. 

Our bond is strong, and it will be there forever. I get frustrated at times when I see you fighting. I hope you understand what you can have in each other. The age difference may be too much right now, but it won't mean a thing when you grow up. I hope you become as close as my sister and I are. I hope you learn to rely on each other and are each other's best friends. I hope your shared childhood together is as magical as the one I share with my sister. 


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