For the Love of My Sisters
I have some amazingly wonderful sisters. I am not talking about my sisters of a lifetime, although they are amazingly wonderful. I am talking about the sisters of my life. The ones who have been with me since I began to find myself, and the ones who have entered my life along the journey. The ones who welcomed me with open arms, kind hearts, and loving souls. They received me into the sorority of womanhood. They allow me to be a sister, an aunt, and a daughter. A mom and a grandmother. I love them all.
We have shared about life and death. We have talked about make-up and men, or women as the case may be. We have walked through fear, and embraced joy. We have cried for ourselves, and each other. Tears of pain, and tears of happiness. We have been there for each other. Without exception. Without question. Without condition.
My sisters are lesbians. My sisters are bisexual. My sisters are transgender. My sisters are straight. Their lives have been touched by HIV/AIDS, violence, and crime. They all love the same, hurt the same, and breathe the same air. It is the air of womanhood.
They edit magazines, or work in libraries. They write, sing, and play. Sisters who teach, and sisters who learn. Sisters who help people live, and sisters who help people who are dying. Women who have placed me in the spotlight, and women who have guided me from the darkness.
Incredible, wonderful sisters who love life. Incredible, wonderful sisters whose lives are far more difficult than mine. An incredible, wonderful sister whose life ended far too soon. She left this world with amazing grace. She lives in my heart, and the hearts of many.
These women teach me about being a little girl, and about being a woman. They show me how to be the woman I am, and how to become the woman I want to be. They love me, and teach me how to love. I take pieces from each and find just the right place for them in my soul. They are always with me.
There are sisters who asked me my name, and sisters who asked me to go for ice cream. These are the sisters who carefully guided me on my very first steps as a woman. There are sisters who gave to me in kindness when they did not see the woman. Now they give to the woman they see.
Their faces light up when they see me. As does mine when I see them. They text me, send me cards, and share jewelry. They talk to me on the phone while I sit waiting alone in a city an hour away.
They bring nieces and nephews into my world, adding unimaginable meaning to the sweetest sound, "Aunt Stephanie". There is the impossible gift of being a daughter. And the most precious gift of all. They bring themselves into my world, in need of someone to be a mother.
There are incredible, amazing men in my life. They bring me the gift of being a sister to them. Not quite the gift I am waiting for, but wonderful, just the same.
That said, this is about my sisters. Being a woman in more amazing than I could have ever dreamed. Being a woman among women? How could I have known. What seems like a very long time ago, I was asked, "Why would anyone choose to be a woman?" At the time I just pointed out that it was not about choice. Today I know the answer to that question. For the love of my sisters.
© 12/16/2009, Stephanie Mott
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