My Cousin-Sisters

I grew up with three older sisters and two younger siblings. Biologically I was the oldest of three, but my three older female cousins helped to raise my siblings and I. They weren't that much older than us, but they were so cool in our eyes. I believe this is the resason why I don't act like a typical Firstborn, I never really had to be one.

There was the eldest sister who got her license at sixteen and drove us around everywhere. I remember the five of us, plus a couple of their friends, shoved into her old blue Toyota like sardines on our way to the mall. She was also the responsible one, who helped us with our homework, took us to our doctor appointments, and made sure to bring us back home right before my father was due home from work.

Then there was the middle sister who was most like me. She was studious and a voracious reader. I was always in her room picking out the next thing to read that weekend. She also had the coolest and most consistent group of friends that I wanted to be mine. She was the most afrocentric and I envied her style.

Last there was the baby sister who was the life of the party. I remember her nineties fly gear like it was yesterday, she used to rock the oversize jerseys and baggy pants like it was her job! She was the biggest tomboy but always had a gaggle of male admirers around. She was tough, spunky, temperamental, and very outgoing.

It was at their house that I did most of my growing up. As we were raised in a very conservative Christian family, it was there that I attended my first parties that were not associated with the church. I learned to dance under their watchful eyes, because I was forbidden to dance at home. I had the opportunity to experiment with nail polish and make-up that had to be removed right before I went home on Sunday nights. I spent countless hours getting my hair permed or braided up between the knees of one of my cousin-sisters. I raided their closets so that I could attend school on Mondays looking extra cute with a new top.

It was also at their house that I had my first near encounter with the opposite sex. I almost had my first kiss with him, but we were interupted by one of my cousin-sisters. Their home was a stark contrast to the quiet, reserved, and sometimes prisonlike atmosphere of my own home. Laughter rang throughout their home with no repurcussions. I felt at ease and safe in that house.

It was also at their house that I first learned about the ugliness of divorce between parents, the controversy of premarital sex, and broken hearts. I've seen men come and go, with their broken promises in tow.

I don't see them as much anymore, as I now live in another state and do not come home often. Everyone is busy with their own lives and there are more of us running around now. The youngest sister is getting married on Friday and expecting a baby. Things will change but I'm sure that some things will always stay the same.

 I take comfort in the fact that no matter how long I've been away, I can always go to my cousins' house, sit on their bed, and raid their closets, just like old times.