I went home during the weekend and I’m glad I did. Everything was worth it. I’ve constantly used lack of financial resources as my reason – excuse rather – for not going home. Now I regret not coming home as often as I could.
August 30 is our town’s fiesta in honor of St. Rose of Lima, our parish saint. I’m not religious. Let me make that clear. I did not even get to enter the town church during my 21-hour stay in town. I did not even get to spent a whole day in Bacacay – a pity. But it did make me appreciate a lot of things – family, traditions, company, et cetera.
It was on the eve of August 30th that my two elder sisters and I got to gather for a drinking session. Our eldest sister was not able to come because she has to review for her upcoming examination. Our “sessions” usually start with us sharing what’s happening at works, social life, and of course us being females, the romance department [the details of which I won’t divulge of course].
It was then that I became aware of how special the concept of “sisterhood” is. There is that bond that connects all of you no matter how far one lives from the other or how long you’ve last conversed. Being sisters go beyond coming from the same set of parents, one womb, or growing up together. It’s amazing how such bond can strengthen after just a few hours of conversation and more-than-a-few glasses of alcohol. It’s caring more for another more than you would for yourself. It’s like being unwilling to spend for yourself and then dropping all financial restraint when the other needs the support badly.
Never have I thought that I see them in this light – or perhaps it comes with age (this coming from a 22-year-old 🙂 ). At the time that I lived in the same house with them, I saw them as superior beings who ordered me around – against my will. They had this power that could bring me into submission -forcibly. I resented the authority they had over me. Maybe it was the Cinderella complex, the belief that everybody is treating me unfairly, the look-at-me-piteous-me state that I lived in for quite a while.
Once one grows out of that stage, things do change. Of course, they still had occasional power trips but nothing that would cause me to loathe them. And I did loathe them for a while (more on the dislike part of loathing). Those are the memories I find myself amused with. Without those memories, growing up with four older sisters would have been duller – less brawls, dramatics, shouting – it definitely would have been dull.
Funny thing is, what made you dislike them before tightens the bond you have today. The more fights you had, the more moments can can both laugh at.
Sisters always remember, they forgive, they give – more than what you ask for and even if you have not yet asked for it. Even before you realized you needed it.