Sisters

I have a sister. She is 12.5 months older than me. We don’t talk much. Actually, we don’t talk at all. For the past 7 years, we have only talked a few times. I can count them in one hand.

Whenever ppl talk about sisterhood, and the bond that only sisters have,  I cringe a little inside. I berate myself for not being that sister to my sister. I then immediately justify myself to myself and tell myself that it’s all her fault for being such a b*tch. I’m sure, deep inside, she is not one. But she sure has acted like one in certain circumstances in the past.

Last night, I had dinner with three women friends from my small group. It was the first one and we plan on having it monthly.

It fed my soul.

It fed my soul.

I never felt like that with a group of women before.

The conversation never stopped. The food was fabulous. We talked about everything from breastfeeding to claustrophobia to backpacking across Europe and composting. I felt like one of the girls in Sex and the City. One of the four. (No, we did not talk about sex.)

I am so thankful to my “sisters” for last night. I ended up staying up until midnight to finish a work project but it was worth every minute. Every. Minute.

mood: grateful

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