Siblings...

Those of you that know me are aware that I’m the eldest of six siblings; four sisters and one brother. There are 12 years between me and the youngest, Lindsey.

Like any large family, we always been close to one another; depending on our respective ages and who pissed off whom recently.

Years ago, while still living in the city one of us (I’m sure that someone will lay claim to this) suggested that just us sibs should get together. No kids. No spouses. Just the six of us out for dinner. It was fun. It was safe. Not enough time to harm any relationships or even mend old wounds. We did that one or twice until moving up here. Then it became an annual event diarized on everyone’s calendar, usually a weekend in early February. This year we all agreed on a date after one email! Amazing!

My brother and me refer to our sisters as the Sisterhood, or ‘hood, for short. Sorta like a coven of witches – in a mostly good way. They spend more time together individually and en famille. Ross and I enjoy family but are not huge fans of mass get togethers where everyone is there, but you talk with no-one. Having said that, there is an exception; but you’ll hear about that in July.

Anyway… this weekend is our weekend. And we’re all really looking forward to it. Over the years, we’ve grown a little closer to one another as we carefully peel back layers and discover things we never new or were afraid to admit or even ask. There have been some shocking moments. There have been some hilarious moments, but always, we each come away from those two days a little wiser. More appreciative. And not just for each other – that’s almost a given. It’s as if we all go on a life course for a weekend. Our own Survivor. But no-one is voted off. At the end of the Sunday, after a disgusting, once a year heart attack on a plate breakfast, there’s often reluctance to leave. Another laugh. Another story. Perhaps another tear. Definitely another hug or six.

Until we do it all over again next year.