Friday, February 5, 2010

The Sisters Three

I love the sound of high heels on hard floor, the smell of good perfume, the luster of pearls, coffee in cups around a kitchen table, giggles, and stories and swears.

I especially love the swears.

In my life, when you mixed this all together, it only meant one thing. Court was in session.

The Sisters Three were together.

Eavesdropping is an art, in case you are unaware. It requires stealth, the ability to make one’s own self small and unnoticed. It is not hard to be small when you are four, it comes with the territory. Unnoticed is another thing entirely. Lucky for me, I had talent.

Judes is Number Two of The Sisters Three, sandwiched between Number One, who is, like me, a T and Mame who is Three.

As I recall these sisters were always up to something. I remember being part of quickly hatched plans and hare brained schemes on more than one occasion. Sometimes, those plans ended badly, hysterically usually, but badly.

“Do not tell your father that Number Three wrecked the car.  Do not do it.  I will tell him.  Do you understand me?” Judes warned.

I offered an affirming nod.

And I didn’t tell, really, I didn’t, not until exactly 5:16 pm when my father’s car pulled into the driveway.

“Hi Daddy, Mame crashed the car, and you are getting a new razor for Christmas, but I did not tell.

Do you understand? Mama is telling, not me. ”

I knew better, swear, but, there was something about the excitement that was irresistible.

I am still surprised they let me live.

Cat eye shades, cashmere twin sets, wool hound's tooth swing jackets, leggings like Mary Tyler Moore and that ability to make a bologna and cheese sandwich on pedestrian white bread look like a gourmand's signature dish, (I think it was the way that she licked her lips after each bite) all of this, is what I think of when I think of T.

I remember a baby boy born on the fourth of July. The same Fourth of July that I stepped on the glowing wire of a sparkler dropped on the lawn. I remember that T was our best Christmas present when she came home. I know that if you were to ask Two or Three, they would tell you that T was Granny's favorite. They may be right.

I am not sure about that.

Also, I am not sure if The Sisters Three planned to have babies three, within the space of about three months, but that was exactly what happened. The result was two more girls named T, and we became The Cousins Three.

It was T, on what was the worst day of my life that looked right at me and said. "Forever is not always. Enough never is. You can make it through this space between, because you have to. There are three people counting on you".

She was right.

I am going home now, to say goodbye to T. The Sisters Three are now two. If I could, I would tell her, that forever isn't always, but sometimes enough is enough. I would tell her she should leave now if she needs to, and that we will always remember, the times that came before this space between.


Out-
T

7 comments:

The Blasphemous Fiendess said...

very beautiful, T

Connie said...

That is a beautiful post and tribute. I lost my favorite aunt years ago, and I still wish I could call her up or find a letter in the mail from her. She never had kids of her own and she doted on me and my sister. One of the last times I saw her, she took my husband and I out to bingo with her... we had a blast. I am glad he got to know her. I wish my kids had had the chance. She will always be a part of who I am.

Online Degrees said...

Such a wonderful post!! very ice to read it! thanks for the sharing,

Chaffin Channel said...

Beautiful. You were lucky to have her in your life for so long. Even luckier to have such wonderful memories of such a great lady.

formerly fun said...

This is lovely and evocative, love the image of the bologna sammich. My mom is one of three sisters and they each had a daughter and the three of us are close as well.

Anonymous said...

Mame shot me an email letting me know of your post and to read if I wanted to cry. I thought I won’t cry I DON’T cry – it’s not allowed and T writes black humor I’ll be fine. Dang I was wrong, well kind of, I didn’t cry but wanted too so that counts, you got me at the end. I didn’t know how well you knew my mom so thank you for sharing.

Tobi said...

I know you miss her. I hope the almost tears were not a bad thing.
<3