The 4th of July with Family

My Facebook post today said, "When my sister leaves my heart aches." It had been six months since I'd seen my sister, not for voluntary reasons but for financial ones and of course, circumstance. And one weekend is not enough after six months. Yes, we talk on the phone about 3 times a day, every day. We are our own honest truthful sister to sister, mother to mother, know all your shit and love you support group to each other. I love her more than I could ever express and while most people are used to living away from family and visiting over holidays, I will never get used to it.

I rely on her for support every time my son does something that sends me over the edge or so weird that I only want to share it with someone who won't judge me in a way that I mind. I rely on her when I think I will lose my mind because hearing her two 19 month apart sons gives me perspective. When something wonderful happens or when I'm having a good time, innately like ducklings follow their mother I wish she was sitting next to me. When my anxiety sends me into spin mode I call her because she knows how to calm me down. And every afternoon, around 2 when the boys are napping, I know my phone will ring and we will have a cup of tea or coffee while briefing each other before one of us says we are going to lie down for a few minutes before the craziness we signed up for resumes. That is how close we are.

This feeling is akin to the one when I was 7 years old and old enough to understand why my father had moved from Argentina to the U.S (since those of us who live in third world countries are forced to grow up a little quicker and understand financial difficulty at a deeper level far earlier in life) but still cried all the time. One afternoon while my mother was up hanging laundry at the roof of the condos we lived in Argentina I threw myself on my parents' bed and hysterically cried for a long time until I fell asleep, cursing the "opportunities" in the U.S. that had lured my father on our behalf and the "lack of opportunities and the inflation" that plagued Argentina that had made my father run for cover. It was the first time that I cursed, really cursed and so I remember it vividly. Then I remember my mother coming in to wake me up. But that feeling.....that feeling will always stay with me. I grew up that day a lot more than any little girl should have to grow up in one day. And now, I miss my sister the same way. And while I as an adult, with responsibilities, a family, and a child of my own, instead of cursing aloud, my soul caves a little for the stabbing my heart feels at its core.

I curse the American ways for the opportunities (yes, I do understand that we are in a depression) that make us travel around the country chasing our next big dream job with all the lucrative hopes and aspirations, but I wish I had no knowledge of the provincial way of life. My family who still remains in Argentina does not move from place to place. They die where they are born, sometimes in the same house, and while they don't have the luxury of knowing or not being tempted by money, opportunities that can be just over in the next province or state, they get to be with their family. Albeit, I know this may be too much love and closeness sometimes, but I still miss that now.

I think I have come full circle now. My mother moved here when she was 34, she got on the plane for the first time and left her whole family behind to follow her husband, my father. I am now 34 and I have no trouble imagining doing that now because I love my husband and soulmate, and my son. But yes it would hurt. And then I remember about 10 years ago something my grandfather who was visiting said to me. He said, "Sometimes when there are too many plants planted together in one great big pot and they are all trying to grow and compete for the light and heat of the sun, the refreshing of water, it's better to take some out and replant them into another smaller pot. If you time it just right, when they are young and have not grown too wild or have too many weeds around them, they have a chance to most likely grow closer together, not fighting for the sun and the rain. Supporting one another if the other one tends to lean one way or another. Then they will drop seedlings around themselves and their base will be healthier to support the young plants as they grow under them and they will stand strong when they start leaning. And then when you look at the big pot with all those plantings, you will see all the weeds that have cramped them and you'll have wished they were all replanted at the right time." With this he slanted his head downwards and raised his right brow, as if asking me if I understood. And I immediatly saw my family and knew.

We had been very fortunate to have been transplanted young. But while I love the pot I replanted myself in and my sister does the same, I wish that our pots were planted closer together so our seedlings could grow together and we could enjoy the same sun and rain. I love you Sole.