Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Sisterhood of Wild Things


The paint is dry.  The honeymoon is over.  "Mom, I miss when it was just me and you and Daddy.  I miss our old house."  Oh, wow.  My heart is physically breaking.  Can she hear it?  The sadness in her little voice is overwhelming.  Must...act...strong...

Four days later:
"Mom, I like sharing my room with my sister.  It's not so lonely."

How strange blows this wind!  The storm of sisterhood is truly amazing.

At first the baby reaches for sister's hair, her toys, her face, anything related to this being that she so adores.  Soon baby is touching her things, crawling into her space, her face.  I was that baby once: adoring, single-mindedly determined to devour my sister and anything related to her.

We'll eat you up we love you so!


I was the wild thing.  She was Max.  Losing control, lost in confusion, angry, frustrated.

But Max said, "no."

Oh, those poor little wild things.  They just wanted to love and be loved with pure abandon.  And poor Max, who could finally control something in his world, didn't mean to hurt them.

Make no mistake, those little wild things have claws, too.  And the King of the Wild Things does bear some great responsibility.  He must be able to say NO (and to put them to bed without any supper, but that is a different story for a different day).

But in the end, who do we love more than life itself?  The Dream, the Imagining, the Wild Thing that has pulled us out of ourselves and drawn us into the great adventure.

As I watch Grace-girl and Baby Rain dance these steps, I find tears flowing. Thankful for my sister who gladly piles up with me when things feel lonely or hard.
Thankful that my girls will have that.



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