Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
The dance
Many of you are aware, by now, that I have three children, all girls, ages 9, 7 and 4. I often get asked if the older two are twins, as they both have the same hair colour and there is only an inch and a half difference in height between the two. I reply no, there is exactly two years minus one day difference between the two, and the observer usually comments "But they look so much alike!"
I personally can't see it for a row of trees. One has big green eyes that grow wide and expressive, while the other has icy blue eyes that crinkle and sparkle when she laughs, much like my father's and his mother's did. Their personalities are quite different too - one is quick to ignite with a temper that puts me to shame, and the other is brooding and slow to come forth with whatever may be bothering her. One is eager to please and very sensitive, the other is a little more, shall we say, carefree in her attitude towards others and life in general. I couldn't think them to be more different. Sometimes I wonder that they both came from the same parents. Once in a blue moon I wonder that they came along at all, and isn't it a miracle they've lived this long! (The Maker does make them cute for a reason...)
But something happened the other day that made me realize that,even though they are two separate people, two distinct individuals, there is something between them that even I, as their mother, can never participate in, be part of, know. They are sisters.
It was the lovely Sunday afternoon we experienced a couple of weeks ago. I was at the kitchen sink, cleaning up lunch dishes, the girls were distributed throughout the house, Daddy was at work. Music was being played on the computer. My eldest daughter came drifting through the room, and wandered out the sliding door onto the deck, just outside of where I was standing. I didn't pay much attention, and continued on with my dishes. As I turned to put a plate away, I noticed her out on the deck. She was standing with her face raised to the sun, a slight smile on her lips, and her arms were raised out in front of her, as though they were wrapped around the neck of a much-favoured dance partner. She shifted her weight in time with the ballad whose music was filling the room and spilling out through the open door - not really dancing, per se, but going through the motions much as the rest of us did when we were shy teenagers at our first dance and didn't know what to do with the boy or girl standing across from us in the dimly lit gymnasium. She moved back and forth to the rhythm, and was so far away from where she stood. I put my cloth down, and just stood, really watching her. Thoughts piled on top of one another: WHO is she dancing with/How does she know how to look like that/Someone has to teach her how to dance with a boy properly/SHE'S TOO YOUNG TO WANT THIS!, and on they went. But she looked so happy, so peaceful.
Just then, her younger sister wandered into the room. She came up beside me, and followed my gaze to her sister outside. She paused for only a couple of seconds, then proceeded out onto the deck as well. I instinctively braced myself for the taunt, the jibe that was sure to issue from her lips. Instead, she glided up to the dancer and wordlessly slipped under her outstretched arms. She wrapped her arms around her sister's neck, and the two of them finished the last few phrases of the song, dancing a perfect duet that no boy, man or other power on earth could cut in on. I watched in awe.
The song ended, and the magic lingered only a few more seconds. Then, I do believe one noogied the other one, and the four-year old burst in to announce she had dog poo on her rubber boot. Happy feeling gone.
Impact of event not. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What had I just witnessed? Certainly nothing I could relate to - I have one brother three years my junior, and, while we can talk quite openly when necessary, we have never had that kind of connection.
For the past two weeks, now, I have watched the older two with new eyes, and I have looked beyond the bickering and fighting and endless barrage of taunts and teasing. And I see something I didn't see before. I notice how they interact. Most noticeably, how one's body ends and the other's begins with no seeming barriers between the two. They aren't the least bit shy about looking straight on at the other's backside, describing in (too much) detail the way it looks and isn't it funny how "it" goes big and small! Personal space is completely disregarded, but not disrespectfully (most of the time). They touch each other and follow each other’s movements with a grace and fluidity that could never be choreographed.
I marvel that two people who, on the surface and to the outside world, seemingly are so different, and on occasion hate one another with a passion, could be so connected and so comfortable with the other's existance. Are all sisters like this? Will the littlest one be allowed into this secret world, or will the larger gap in their ages make her a third wheel? Should she have a younger sibling to even it all out? Okay, I take that last question back.
More than all this, however, I pray fervently that they have more of those moments on the deck, that they continue to grow up, with, beside one another, and always a part of one another’s lives. And I vow to hang on to this newfound respect that I have for them and their relationship.
Now, I think I am going to call my brother. He may not want to dance, but I can at least hold out my hand.
