Sisters

SOB (sister of blogger) and I walked our dad (FOB — father of blogger) to Fairway on Sunday after brunch with POB (partner of blogger) and our son. 

FOB is doing great, but he is aging.  SOB and I walked back uptown.  She was going home to write a chapter of a medical book and I was going to find a neutral place to read and comment on documents.  SOB offered that I could work at her house but we both knew that two couches in the living room would call our names and we would lie there and chat about stuff and then take out the Shrine — the picture album that SOB keeps of our mother — so we could have a long, cleansing sob.

With this in mind, we both decided that trying to work in the same room, or apartment for that matter, was not a good idea.  So, SOB walked me to the cafe at the gym where I was going to set up shop.  She sat for a moment and, of course, since the Shrine was mentioned, we had to have a moment about how long Mom had been gone and all that has happened in that time.  

SOB left me to work, but kept emailing me, “Are you still working?” every five or so minutes.   I am 46 and she is 50.  I don’t think we will ever grow up and I am grateful for that.