My two forced friends.

Hello, lovely

I have the reassurance that regardless of the time of day or what it is, I can call either of them and ask for help, and without hesitation or judgement they’ll help me. Be it needing a recipe, an oil change, a new home,  new avocados, a Plan B, a rationalization, support on a decision, support on a job, if I ask,my sisters will help me.

 

This is an incomprehensible concept because, although our physical traits are similar, personality wise, we could not be more unlike. I don’t eat meat and when I call Megan, she and her fiancé are going hunting. Shawna owes a house, has a fiancé and is preparing to start a family. I can’t buy a new vehicle because it’s too much of a long term commitment. The cost of my jeans is equivalent to a pair of Megan’s socks. Shawna is known for being too brusque; I need how to learn how to be more assertive and start staying no. Megan’s pro-life. I’m a feminist. 

And, oh, can we ever fight with each other. We can be fearlessly and ruthlessly cruel towards one another. We regret our verbal explosion, regularly. It irritates me that Megan doesn’t recycle and Shawna constantly harasses me about not staying in touch with our extended family. They would counter with an endless list of what annoys them about me.

The Monkies

But, all of these lifestyle differences, ethical variations, hurtful comments and petty arguments become invalid when I call either sister in distraught, and the same goes when they call me. I was once told that if one McNeil sister isn’t happy then no McNeil sister is happy; we protect each other unconditionally and without question. I am regularly woken up at three in the morning worried about my sisters’ worries. We are also really good at being fake happy about each others’ achievements and decision when they are our own biggest fears. I may not understand their life choices or follow the footsteps of their standard of living, but I support them wholeheartedly.

I talk about my both sisters to people who don’t know them so often that when they talk about my sisters, it's on on a first name basis, as if know them. I collect stories of them that I will tell on their wedding day, these loving and ridiculous stories change daily. The spare bedroom in Shawna’s house is deemed mine. When Megan mentions taking family photos with her fiance and two children, Hugo and I assume to be included. The success of my life has been a direct result of the support of my sisters.  

How lucky am I am to have sisters who spend some of their moments being excited and worried about me? And perhaps this is the definition of unconditional love.

Ha. Take that Hallmark. 

Smiles,

Kirstin

Even the people in my life who haven't met you, like you, just from the stories – A card that Shawna gave me for my birthday.