I distinctly remember our many sisterly rivalries. I have three sisters and we were all born within five and a half years, about 2 years each between the last three and one and a half between the second oldest and myself. At first, we all got along quite well. As i was the oldest, i would be able to tell them what to do and according to mum, was quite the bossy little bee. Surprised? I was too...
I remember the stories i would make up and i would gather the three younger sisters around me, sometimes they had friends with them so it would grow my audience, and i would always begin with once upon a time. Quite a few stories revolved around a magic tree that money grew on as they all seemed to find this story completely and utterly intriguing. I, of course, got the saying from my parents when i would ask for some money to go and get lollies. In return to this request came the constant retort, “Money doesn’t grow on trees, Emma.” To which i would mumble this reply, “Yeah, well they do in my mind.”
My mind. My friends, bless their hearts, have now come to the point where they don’t question the kind of ramblings that seem to originate in there. They seem to have accepted the fact that it changes subjects over and over again. In fact, it’s a common occurrence for me to ask them a question, and if they don’t reply for a while, then my mind will skip onto 50 new subjects so that when they answer, the answer that they’ve answered with doesn’t match what i am now thinking about, and of course i’ve forgotten what i’ve asked.
Back onto the subject of sisters.
We all grew up on five and a half acres of land with a mini farm, horses, dams, creeks with bridges, trees, quad and motor bikes, bicycles, boats, go-carts, baskets full of dress up clothes, neighbours the same age and an annual Santa Clause that lived down the road and would mow his front lawn wearing nothing but DT’s. Of course we were never allowed down that far on the road because we couldn’t be seen from the house and there was a jail that was situated in the same area. Intrigued? Pretty great childhood i have to say.
I can distinctly remember the day i was allowed to ride my bicycle past the ‘brick letterbox’ of the neighbour down the road. I was 8 years old and i’d been pestering my mum for months saying over and over that i was older than the others and deserved privileges. Needless to say that she gave in and said that i was allowed to go to the end of the street! Yee Haa!! I was so excited. I ran to my bicycle and put my helmet on. I checked the chain on the bike and rang my bell. I was out of there, baby! As i was leaving, my three sisters were getting on their bikes, doing the exact same thing. But i knew i would go further than they would because i was older and more mature.
I hit the street and rode the fastest i’ve ever ridden. I was free! Wind was blowing in my hair and speed was on my side. I flew past the ‘brick letterbox’ and i felt butterflies in my stomach. This was what life was about. This is why i had to pester mum all those months to let me have this little bit of freedom.
I got to the end of the road, took off my helmet and sat on the grass, enjoying the silence and the thrill of being able to go past the ‘brick letterbox’ while my other sisters waited for me.
To my horror, the next thing i heard was the ring of a bike bell... It was the next sister down. Mum had let her do the same thing as me because she knew i would look after her. This was the biggest crime that i thought was out there in the world! THE biggest in justice ever! This was my day, my opportunity. I cried.. I was 8, OK!
To this day, when we joke about the old times and living out on that awesome, adventure-filled and mysterious property, this story will always be bought up and laughed about.. by the other girls.
Welcome home, Bama! I’m glad that you got to experience some of the beautiful world that we live in and i hope that you never have to stop at the ‘brick letterbox’ and that you power past it with wind in your hair and speed on your side. I love you.
Emma Xx.
