Seven sisters

I am the youngest of seven sisters. No brothers. Just us seven girls. Women now. Older women, but throughout my childhood we were referred to as the seven girls, and I still think of us this way.

My sisters are all good strong women. We all talk. We all get along. Growing up as the youngest of them I always had role models. I saw them leave home, get educated, get married, have children and grow into grandparents. Every single one of them has taught me things over the years. I learned from watching them.

I could see at a young age that my job was to move away from mom and dad and make my way in the world as each of them did. 

Mostly though what I remember of them was me as a small child being loved. My oldest sister is seventeen years older than me. The one next to me is seven years older. And this place in a family as the little one means many things. As a small child I was showered with attention. They would pay me to sing, bring me gifts until I was eight or nine. The baby is often nurtured in a family. 

They are also sometimes an aggravation. As I got older, I was driven out of their rooms when they laid on their beds and talked to their friends. I was always around watching the drama of their lives. And I was interested and nosy and listening. I was always listening and they knew it and that is why I was sometimes banished.

I was fortunate to grow up watching them. They showed me the possibilities. I was a witness to their lives, the husbands they chose, their careers and the lives they built. I saw how they raised their kids. How fortunate I am to be the baby. To be the one who watched them all bloom. 

And being the youngest of seven sisters built my identity. It made me feel so secure to know that I was the baby of this family. I always felt that they would look after me if I needed help. And I still feel that way. I feel their love for me, their pride in me, their prayers. I feel surrounded and secure because I am one of them.

And now since Covid we get together every Sunday on Zoom for half an hour. It is like we are in my mother's kitchen. There are lots of times one of us cannot make it, but so often there are seven of us right there on the screen. And truth be told I cannot get a word in edgewise but no matter I am there. And that is often enough for me. To hear their voices, their laughter, their stories. Mostly I am happy just listening to them, knowing I am one of them, proud I am one of them. One of Anne and Bill's girls, part of a family of women.

I will sit and draw as they talk, listening still, as if they are laying on the beds, only now I am not worried about getting kicked out of the room. They love me. They know me. They see me. And now they are no longer worried that I will tell Mom and Dad. Now we are all older women together guiding each through life, from one story to the next.