A Rare and Precious Thing

There’s a fir sapling emerging at the edge of the pond, that’s where she brushed her hair in the morning giving the remnants to the little ones to use it for nests or whatever……

The sister sent a note about a month ago;  “I’m coming for a visit, how’s April 14th weekend looking for you? I want to come walking barefoot in Woodhaven”

“Sure” I respond,  a little befuddled. Visits from my family are rare and precious things.

I’ve been here 14 years now and I can count on a-hand-and-a-half how many times my family has been here. I threw a surprise birthday for my Dad for his 75th birthday and that was a big deal. I have a fabulous niece that shows up when she’s not on a cruise ship somewhere on the planet and a brother in Calgary that comes with his wife and kids when they’re on their way through to Osoyoos. But an entire 2 days with a sister is completely new to me.  I adjust to this new thought and prepare for the possibilities.

The sister is a wizard tax consultant, she currently works for some kind of gas line finding company as a book keeper but has steadfastly done my taxes for years. I put all the receipts in an envelope with bits of paper attached that have the corresponding categories  all added up and she waves some kind of calculator-wand at it and turns it into money for me. I am grateful for the sister. She’s also the one that remembers me on my birthday.

She arrived on the bus at West Kelowna where I picked her up and immediately went for the visit with the Dad. After that we aimed for Woodhaven where the air is cool and things appeared in so much order as a forest can appear. She brought me gifts and I had none for her.  There was a “I am Groot” crotchet character in a clay pot for my deck that I found hilarious and strangely comforting. There was also the best thing ever and that was 1 dozen eggs from her back yard chickens, all fresh and cleaned and each with the ‘best-before’ hand written on the shell. Imagine that. Best eggs I’ve ever had!

We had a sleep-in on Saturday morning, prepared for dinner guests and went to the Oliver Swain and Nils Loewen concert in the old Benvoulin Heritage Church in the evening. She stayed another night, sleeping by the fire that I stoked at 2am and woke with coffee brewing and a fresh-egg breakfast on the stove. We settled into the lounging chairs on the deck for the morning and then it was time for her to go.

Time is a beast.

The fir sapling grows next to the conversations about how neither of us has a family history of menopause because the women before us all had hysterectomies. And that lives next to the confusion about which one of the siblings have degrees, is it all, or none? This cozies up to the idea of us, the motherless daughters, who have made their way with their chosen families and who, as much as these lives are the ‘want’ are no compensation for the motherlessness that hides in the closing curtains of the theatre of our lives.

I love this Sister. She has backyard chickens in suburban Vancouver, she has a husband who was a high school boyfriend and she has children that love her. She has a way about her that is refreshing, kind, and honest in the moment. And with all that pliable and flexible movement, she still has the capacity to take no prisoners, willingly slicing them through with tough and unparalleled brutality if they dare cross her or the ones she companions with.

Her name is Sandy. We walked barefoot in Woodhaven.