Sibling dibling
Jan. 19th, 2012 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kate_schaeferMy sister Gini is visiting me right now. At this minute, she's sleeping in my guest room, since she got up at oh-dark-hundred two time zones away and traveled via delayed airplane to our land of unexpected ice and snow. That is, we expected this particular ice and snow, but in general, we don't expect ice and snow in Seattle, so we're never really prepared to deal with them.
The special joy of having my sister visit, aside from just enjoying hanging out with her, is memory. She says, do you remember our neighbors in Brunswick? And I say, the Kowalskis, on the right. There were a bunch of boys, and Linda. We went to Linda's wedding, years later. No, the other side, she says, and she names them, the family on the left, and the family past them, and the family past them, and the children in each of those houses: Nina, Polly, Christina, big girls, all of them, Gini's age or older. Past that last family, there was a swamp, a real swamp, and we weren't allowed to go there, but we did any way. In the other direction -- two or three families past the Kowalskis -- was Gini's piano teacher, Mrs. Gardner (all grownups were named Mrs. and Mr. in the fifties). We could get to the Gardners' house by going through backyards, which was important, because we weren't allowed to walk on the street by ourselves and there wasn't a sidewalk. We especially weren't allowed to cross the street without grownups, so it was good that there was so much to explore in our block. Not being allowed to cross the street wasn't a hardship; in my memory, there were no houses across the street then. I'll have to ask Gini if there were houses across the street in her memory.
Tomorrow, I have to pass my sister on to her son and his family, who live north of here. She has grandsons to visit and admire, and fine grandsons they are, too. Tonight, we touched back to our youth; we went to a country her son cannot imagine and certainly cannot visit. I don't want to live in that country, but it's good to be able to visit it from time to time.
The special joy of having my sister visit, aside from just enjoying hanging out with her, is memory. She says, do you remember our neighbors in Brunswick? And I say, the Kowalskis, on the right. There were a bunch of boys, and Linda. We went to Linda's wedding, years later. No, the other side, she says, and she names them, the family on the left, and the family past them, and the family past them, and the children in each of those houses: Nina, Polly, Christina, big girls, all of them, Gini's age or older. Past that last family, there was a swamp, a real swamp, and we weren't allowed to go there, but we did any way. In the other direction -- two or three families past the Kowalskis -- was Gini's piano teacher, Mrs. Gardner (all grownups were named Mrs. and Mr. in the fifties). We could get to the Gardners' house by going through backyards, which was important, because we weren't allowed to walk on the street by ourselves and there wasn't a sidewalk. We especially weren't allowed to cross the street without grownups, so it was good that there was so much to explore in our block. Not being allowed to cross the street wasn't a hardship; in my memory, there were no houses across the street then. I'll have to ask Gini if there were houses across the street in her memory.
Tomorrow, I have to pass my sister on to her son and his family, who live north of here. She has grandsons to visit and admire, and fine grandsons they are, too. Tonight, we touched back to our youth; we went to a country her son cannot imagine and certainly cannot visit. I don't want to live in that country, but it's good to be able to visit it from time to time.
