Sister Day

 

Today is Sister Day – the name my dear sister, Esther, coined for the intermittent days we get to see each other. Fortunate enough to live in the same country, but three hours drive apart; we always look forward to our time together.  

Since Abi died Esther has been a huge source of strength for us all, but particularly for me. On that dreadful night, she and her family reached the hospital just minutes after we first arrived, and she’s been right beside me on our journey ever since. In a world without a mum or a daughter, it’s good to have a sister.

So this post is for her and all of those fortunate enough to have a sister. I love the colour, the madness, the silliness, and the passion you bring to all of our lives Esther Henry, but most of all I love that you are part of me, same flesh and blood: same way of packing groceries, same washing up strategy; our shared love of gin, champagne cocktails, wine, scarves, Ugg boots, Converse, and leftover curry. Your recycling is superior to mine (but not necessarily Trevor’s), you wrap presents and make beds way better than me, your coffees leave mine for dust. We hate washing our hair, know when mummy would have wanted us to wear a skirt, and wake in perfect synchronicity when we’re in the same house, always clamouring to be first up, coveting our precious quiet time together early in the morning.

Somebody recently pointed out to you that our siblings form the longest relationships of our lives. I’m grateful for that because no one makes me laugh quite like you do: Trevor says he always knows when it’s you on the phone by the particular way I laugh, well cackle, actually. Bring it on sister, you are one part of the Sisterhood I know I can always count on. Hooray for Sister Day!