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Three Sisters by Rita Skylar

Nothing compares to the pleasure of bonding with your sisters. Romantic love is not the only joy de vivre, it takes time spent with your sisters to feel  the delight of simple connections. I am replenished, rejuvenated. The spontaneous burst of laughter, finishing each others thoughts and sentences, the ‘not’ needing to explain a phrase. MashaAllah, after 4 whole years my gorgeous sisters and I were in one place.  We bemoaned how much like our mother we had become and then thanked Allah for a mother like her.

Spent lazy mornings in PJs with waffles and Washington blueberry sauce. Exchanged recipes, ours, Ammi’s, our motherinlaws’, our cousins. We ate without abandon through boxes of gourmet cupcakes, pacific salmon with almond asparagus and creamy butter chicken. Laughed, giggled and shopped like teenagers. Missed our brother like crazy. Celebrated one’s achievements, running an institute named after a mother of the believers (RA), the Ayesha School, in a quaint house behind the Abu Baker Masjid.

Thought Aboo would have loved this- “pack up the car! instant picnic.” Marveled at the beauty of the Puget Sound, strolled Pike Place sampling Snoqualmie Valley honey, berries & Le Panier eclairs & of-course coffee. And then there were the tulips at Der Roosengarten. Subhan Allahe wa bi hamdihi was on all our lips, “so we can have gardens like that in Jannah” say LF#2. Ameen my daughter Ameen.

We know each others strengths, faults, weaknesses, positive energies, failures, tragedies, dramas, likes, pet peeves, shortcomings, victories. With each other we have to be real because we know; its amazing not to have to pretend.  We see how much we have grown spiritually and emotionally, because we were there in the beginning.

When our souls were first created, theirs must have rested next to mine, for God to choose them as my sisters. They are my childhood, they remind me of things long forgotten; like an old family video but brighter, more colorful and from different angles. Some times you don’t even need words, a look, a frown, a smile gives away the emotions. She is what I could have been.

She secretly fasted on your roza khushai (first fast celebration) and stole your thunder. She stayed up all night to put henna on your hand for your shaadi (wedding) because you didn’t want it done by an impersonal professional. She urged you to wear abaya, ‘just do it, don’t wait’ she said. She nursed your baby because she was crying and you weren’t there.

She was your first baby, the first diaper you changed, the nose you wiped. She held your dupatta (veil) as you walked up the aisle for your Nikkah. She took your kids to the zoo on Eid while you were away at Hajj. She didn’t need to tell me she loved her gift, I could see the same look of satisfaction as when she got presents at birthdays past.

She sobbed in dua (prayer) for you when you were loosing your baby at the emergency room. She held your hand during your C-section and welcomed your baby with Takbeer.  She has become an amateur matchmaker, in hopes that Allah will help her find the perfect match for you.

The Three Sisters

You keep your past by having sisters. As you get older, they’re the only ones who don’t get bored if you talk about your memories.
– Deborah Moggach

Cousins bickering over toys, over who loves each other more. We find each other in our children. A lift of an eyebrow, a throaty laugh, same toddler gibberish. My children need to see us loving each other so unconditionally, a model for what their future relationship should be like, God Willing. A day after we land back, my two year old says,’Mama remember when we went to Khala jaani’s house, can we go there again ..TODAY.’ I wish, sweetie, I wish.

Der Roosengarten-Sisters are like flowers from the same garden-author unknown

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