sisters

I am a ripple of all of you — we are sister echoes of a song my mother once sang. Each one is different from the other, a variation in the melody, perhaps, but still part of the same song.

Every city has its charm, but no city is perfect. Regardless of the ups and downs, this sisters trip to Southern California is one that I will always remember.

I am the middle child of three girls, and when I tell people, they either react with a surprised “woah," a curious sympathetic expression with the question, “Do you have the middle child syndrome?” or some sort of empathy expressing that they are also a middle child.

Though my sister and I were raised in the same house with the same parents in the same Chicago suburb, our childhoods were immeasurably different. I have to wonder if that is what made us so different or if it was inevitable from the beginning that our life paths would split so drastically.