Musings

They called me upstairs. My darlings. My friends. These two.

It was a Saturday morning. We had had a sleepover along with my sister’s, the ones born by my mother.

But these two, they are sisters too.

I remember when they arrived on Friday evening at the sleepover venue and one of my older sisters said; “Mimi’s sisters have arrived”.

Isn’t it beautiful?, to have people who mean so much, even your own blood know.

So, like I said, they called me up, right after breakfast and we began to remember some tough seasons. We talked and we laughed and we cried.

One of them said to me; “Look around you. There’s so many broken people around you and you are always there for us….I wonder, what is it that broke you that made you know how to be there for us? How did you know exactly how to hold my hand to make me feel better when I was going through my divorce”

I’ve been thinking so hard since that day. Looking for answers and deeper meaning to all she said.

Did something break me? How come I’m surrounded by broken people? Is there a purpose for and to this?

I’m sitting here and thinking afresh, 27 days later, because I just saw one of them put up the photo below with my name to it.

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Author: Emaistace

wife, mom, sister, daughter, aunty, friend. writing my everyday thoughts as they pop up.

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