Today is National Lollipop Day! It just felt like the perfect time to rewrite my story about my silent childhood wish. I love when you can put what’s close to your heart into words and it doesn’t make you sad or cry anymore.
Every year before blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, my silent childhood wish was to have a sister.
I felt safe inside my pretend-world where no one could possibly burst my bubble. I imagined my sister and me laughing so hard that we cried long into the night…a forever slumber party. We had a lasting friendship, like a big all-day lollipop with colorful swirls. My make-believe sister and I shared in girl talk, whispered secrets, and silly giggles. Ours was an unconditional trust that would never be broken, a kind of cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die pact.
I was adopted at birth but never gave much thought to the possibility that I might really have a sister. The harsh reality was that my birth mother had placed me for adoption over infidelity, but had kept my older siblings. I could hardly believe it—me, the girl who had wished so hard for a sister, had not one, but two much older sisters.
It seems like it was just yesterday that my sisters and I were faceless strangers. Our paths were separated by time and distance, like shooting stars with different destinies. Then, by chance, I found the ingredients for my ready-made relatives. Anxiously I hoped that they would welcome me into their life stories.
Magically, my sisterly-wish had been granted but intertwined with sadness. After finding this missing part of me, I experienced many emotions. I felt like a small child overwhelmed by the awe of Christmas. Yet another part of me was grieving over the letdown of having a not-so-happily-ever-after relationship.
While being the “sister left behind” hurts deeply, I don’t blame either of my sisters for having not being overly-delighted about my intrusion into her life. Regretfully, I realize now that I tried too hard to make them into the sisters I had always dreamed about.