My kids and I recently got back from a long driving trip. A very long driving trip. We visited eleven states, five zoos, and put more than 3,000 miles on our minivan. Even though I’d be lying if I said the whole thing was fun (the 20-hour death-march from Minnesota to Texas on the last day was no Sunday drive), we managed to have a pretty darn good time. Although the kids bickered a lot, I hope that one day they’ll look back on playing “I’m going on a picnic” and the license plate game and “I Spy” with a certain degree of fondness.
In fact, the trip reminded me of many summers when my mom loaded up my younger brother and sister and me in our minivan and took off to visit all of our far-flung relatives. Looking back on those summer vacations, I remember a few things: reading until I could read no more, hiding Jilly’s Wee Sing tape when we couldn’t stand listening to it anymore, Ethan getting carsick and feeling extremely jealous that Jilly got her own bench in the minvan (before the day of captain’s chairs) when Ethan and I had to share. I realize now that my mom didn’t give Jilly her own bench because she favored her more or she wanted to keep her close, but because she would fight constantly with me or Ethan if she sat next to either of us.
Jilly is almost eight years younger than I am. She was eleven when I left for college, fifteen when I got married, and still in high school when my first child was born. She left home for a while to go to college, but eventually decided that she’d be more comfortable at a school closer to home, and moved back in with my parents. Even though she hasn’t been a kid for a while, I’ve somehow never really gotten over thinking of her as a kid (do all older sisters have this problem?).
A couple of months ago, I read Lisa Rumsey Harris’s essay “I Look Like My Sister” from the Spring 2008 issue of Segullah in which she talks about her relationship with her older sister Elaine, and how they’ve come to look so much alike as adults that they can fool neighbor kids and even their own husbands. Although I could relate to the age gap in the article (she and Elaine are also seven years apart), I set the article down thinking that no one would ever mistake Jilly and me. Furthermore, while Lisa and Elaine have lives that have taken similar paths, my sister and I have always seemed so, well, different. People have always said that she looks like our dad and I look like our mom. I’m an early bird and she’s a night owl. She’s far more patient than I am. When we shared a room, I always made my bed and she was lucky to be able to find her bed. I’m the one you’d go to if you wanted to get something done and she’s the one you’d go to if you wanted to have a good time. I’m Old Navy and she’s Banana Republic. Other than a shared passion for chocolate, we just didn’t seem to have all that much in common.
One of our stops on the trip was a long weekend at Jilly’s house. She got married last spring, and it was my first time to see her living on her own (well, with her husband, but not with my parents). Her apartment reminded me so much of my own newlywed apartment, right down to the decorating style– a combination of old family castoffs, cheap stuff from Ikea, and lots of red accents. We both make our husbands do the dishes (well, at least as a newlywed I did, until we got a dishwasher and he started working really long hours), we’re both last-minute lesson planners (and this blog post should have been published hours ago), both read the same books, both married dark and handsome men, and both adore my children. I realized that this baby sister of mine, is all grown up…. and not that different from me.
When I got home from vacation, I had a package from Jilly’s wedding photographer. Inside, among the family pictures, was a candid shot of my little sister and me. I’m taller, her hair is curly, and you can tell by my body that I’m the one who has had four kids, but we have the same smile. Maybe we’re not so different from Lisa and Elaine. Jilly and I inhabited the same house as kids, it wasn’t until I could see both of us as adults that I realized that our relationship as sisters goes deeper than just sharing the same space for 11 years.
I hope that my kids will also find that their bond as siblings will go deeper than reminiscences over fighting in the back seat of the minivan from Texas to Minnesota and back. It might take a while, but that’s ok. There are still 39 states out there to visit– and Jilly can teach me how to be patient.
This was beautiful, Shelah.
We just returned from a big family vacation with my whole extended family, and your thoughts on your sister warm my heart. My younger sister and I are five years apart. Though we clashed a lot as kids, we have become very close. We look a lot alike, though I’m taller, she’s got a bigger frame and more freckles, and our hair color is different. She’s much more hippy than I am, though I’ve got a little inner hippy that adores her hippy side. I love how close we’ve become. We cried when we parted.
What you said about always thinking of your sister as a kid reminded me of us, too. It’s kind of strange when that hits me. She married several years before me (which honestly reflected she was more mature than me), and she really is a more thoughtful, kind, selfless person than I am. She even prayed, years ago, that I would get married and have children first, because she knew how much I longed for both. Anyway, back to the see-her-as-a-kid idea . . . even with all of her greater maturity, sometimes when she says something deep or wise or profound, it catches me off guard. I literally find myself thinking things like, “Wow. She really is a brilliant, grown up woman. Not just the kid I tormented into cleaning her part of our room.” Because I respect and admire her so very much, it surprises me when I think thoughts like that. Isn’t it odd? I suspect a lot of us older sisters do that.
I love that you and your sister decorate the same & such. We are much more drastically different that way, but I dig her style.
This was so great to read and think about!
That reminds me so much of my sister (4 years younger). Growing up I didn’t really appreciate her - especially since she wanted to be just like me. My mom told me so many times “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” I thought we were SOOOO different. She’s brunette, I’m blonde; she’s an English teacher, I’m an engineer; I could go on and on - but she is most definitely my mother’s daughter just as I am my father’s daughter.
I went out to help her when her twin boys were born four years ago. I was absolutely shocked at how similar we were. We talked the same. We used the same mannerisms. We had the same finicky way of keeping our house completely spotless (even with two week-old twin boys). We think the same - and have incredibly similar opinions about people, events, etc. We are so alike in so many ways it was scary - and yet it pleased me so much. It was like discovering a best friend I didn’t stop to realize I had.
Did you hear about that new book a BYU professor wrote about road trips?
yeah, that road trip book is Are We There Yet by Susan Rugh of the BYU history department.
I’ve got four younger sisters. Since I was living in the Midwest and everyone else pretty much stayed on the coast, I pretty much missed their young-married transition. Now when I get to visit any of them, I am always blown away by how together and cool they are.