Sisters

My sister has cancer...again. This is the third time. She's scared, and so am I, even though in our conversations I try to be light-hearted in an attempt to cheer her up. It's probably not working. I mean how can you cheer somebody up who is waiting to have more tests and to find out just what is going on this time? We wasted a lot of time while growing up actually hating each other. We're thirteen months apart in age. She was always the pretty one and the spunky one. I was always the smart one and the shy one. Each of us was jealous of the other because we thought our parents liked the traits of the other more than our own. The truth is that our family was so totally dysfunctional, and any positive attention given by either of our parents was so rare, that my sister and I hated each other when a scrap resembling love was tossed toward one and not the other. Abuse (I'll not elaborate right now) tends to bring out the survival mode in kids. That sounds horrible, doesn't it? It was; it is. Thankfully, we survived. We're maybe not the most well-adjusted adults out there, but we've figured out what love really is...though it did take quite a while and lots of mistakes. We've bonded. Now in our fifties, and not too far away from entering our sixties, we're happy; even Connie who has been diagnosed with her third cancer. Could things be better for her? Hell yes! But things could be a whole lot worse. And the best thing that came out of all our trials is that we've become sisters who love each other. I'm still jealous of her, though. She is still the pretty one and she's the kindest, most generous person anyone could ever hope to meet. She's funny and thoughtful, and one of the best cooks around! Also she's scared, and so am I.