These are my baby sisters, as you all well know. I realize I talk about them incessantly, but I cant help it. They're too big a part of my life, too loud, too ever-present and far too entertaining not to pay attention to.
I wrote my book about them, or about us. Three sisters. Except that my characters are exaggerated versions of them... I joke that Rebecca's character is on steroids.
Things have changed in a hurry for them. Rachel graduated and will soon be bound for an exciting new summer job on her own. Rebecca is interning and living with us this summer, which I'm finding a delight. And a horror... since she's the most athletically fit person in the world. I, however, prefer to eat Cherry Garcia while watching marathons of King of Queens.
Last night she duped me into going on a walk and I ended up running for the first time in five years. It wasn't pretty; my hair stuck to my neck, I wheezed, and my backside actually JIGGLED as I clodded gracelessly down the street. I'm starting to worry she's enrolled me in her own personal boot camp.
Either way, they're off. They're grown. I'm misty eyed about this, and a little worried. Whenever people asked me when I would have children, I always joked, "When I finish raising my sisters."
It would appear that I should edit that clause. New rule: "After I get them married off." There, that should do it, especially since Rebecca has vowed to be single until the dawn of time. :)
It's called hedging your bets people.