This story of sisters is best told through the clothes…
In November of 1978, I handed her a pink and white blanket that had been knitted for me when I was a just a baby. She was just days old and I looked at her, with all the love and wonder of a 5 year old and thought: That’s my sister.
In April of 1983, I handed her my dad’s old jean jacket and a baseball cap as part of a costume for a play we were putting on for our parents. I, of course, was writer, director and starring lead of these masterpieces, she was the pliable and willing supporting cast and our brother, a much less willing participant, ended up in the non-speaking, inanimate roles of gray rock in forest or Easter egg.
In October of 1989, I handed her a sequined adorned top for a punk rocker Halloween costume I was helping her with. She was going trick or treating and, at the time, it didn’t occur to me that it might be strange that many of the accessories and clothing items that I was wearing out and about everyday were considered appropriate items for a Halloween costume…but then again…it was the 80’s.
In May of 1992, I handed her a jersey as the coach of her soccer team. It was wonderful to see her develop a love of the sport that both my brother and I shared with our father, who in turn had shared with his.
In May of 2000, I once again handed her a soccer jersey…this time as a team mate. We played on a woman’s team together and I can’t recall for sure, but I believe we lost every single game that year. What I do remember with startling clarity from that season was driving to the games together with the music cranked as we belted out the lyrics; I remember laughing at half time as we feasted on summer sweet oranges and I remember how much fun I had, win or lose, just playing together.
In August of 2002, I handed her a striped sweater from the Gap as she packed…it was mine, but looked better on her and she loved it. She was moving to another province for 3 years and it would be the first time we had ever lived more than an hour or so apart. And I knew I would miss her ever so much more than I would that sweater.
And in March of 2008 I handed her a dress. It was ivory…and elegant and beautiful. And when she came out of that dressing room and I saw her for the first time in the very dress she is wearing today…our timeline of memories, fabrics and carefully woven threads danced across the space between us and I caught hazy glimpses of her at the age of 5 again, at 15 again, at 25. And I looked at her, with all of the same love and wonder of 30 years before, and thought to myself: That’s my sister.
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