Homeward
By: Madeline Pratt
As little kids, we never had much of a choice when it came to our siblings.
It was always:
“Stop teasing your sister!”
“Let go of her hair!”
“You are both talented at playing your instruments.”
We never chose one another, as our parents made that decision for us.
However, as we all transition into adults, we will be presented with opportunities that only a fool would not grasp and hold onto. You will meet your sibling again and again at every stage of life, and it’s your choice to grow apart, or to grow toward one another. Blood may be automatic, but rediscovering and strengthening relationships takes intention.
There was a prominent time in my life when I felt like a stranger to my friends. As a young girl, my circle was detrimental to me and losing them was not an option. I remember shrinking certain parts of myself so that my personality would not take up too much space, wanting to belong because it was my oxygen.
At least, that is what I told myself.
While I was rehearsing my conversations for the next day, I never realized that there was always a girl sitting in the kitchen stool next to me, listening to my feelings and reminding me in quiet and ordinary ways, that I’d never been too much for her.
She never required me to audition.
She never dismissed my vulnerability.
I think that can be the tragedy of childhood sometimes—we chase the loud belonging and overlook the steady, built-in one. I was so terrified of losing people who tolerated me that I almost missed out on the one who loved me unconditionally.
Our bond was not built on the promise of social validation; but instead nurtured by whispered midnight conversations, woven through secret handshakes, and cultivated in the sweet moments before my first date or a high school dance. I would yell her name from my bathroom, the counter cluttered with mascara tubes and hot tools; our home would fill with giggles as she accidentally poked my eye because I “couldn’t sit still”, and I would pretend to protest while secretly savoring the ritual of it all. I still remember the gentle tickle of the brush against the apples of my cheeks, the way she concentrated so carefully, as if preparing me not just for an evening, but for the world itself.
The world will indefinitely offer us rooms of people to impress, but not every room will feel like home. And so now, when life continues to stretch siblings in different directions, we can recognize what will truly fulfill us; as the rare gift is not the crowd—it is the person who appreciates your undiluted self.