My sister writes a fantastic blog. Her words are poetry and truth, laughter and aching sadness. Even my dad calls me and tentatively says ‘she writes really good doesn’t she’ in that ‘I don’t brag about my kids but my god, sometimes my kids kick major ass’ way he has.
And she does. Not just because she is my sister, but because she has a way with words. A story teller. She invites you into her world and you want to stay there. Pause for a bit, see the world trough her funny and curious eyes.
If I didn’t know her I would want to be her friend. Luckily for me she’s my sister!
https://annarsmaru.blogspot.com/?m=1
In her last post she writes about that place deep inside where worry and darkness and sadness lives. The place that makes you unable to truly believe that things will work out no matter sunshine and flowers and love. The place that has coloured both our lives and pulled us to the edges of depression.
We share that place she and I. She is 7 years older than me and we didn’t grow up together. We only got close in my 20s. But still we share that place. Maybe we inherited it. Passed down by generations on gloomy norsemen living in vast forests not seeing the sun for 6 months a year. Or maybe we just happen to be two very similar souls being born as sisters.
Either way she is my person, my family. A sea away and both with a hate for phone calls and general ‘hey how are you’ chit chat she feels close always in the way that only someone who really, truly gets you does.
She is in many ways my guiding light. If I can build the life she has, be the lightness and love she is and care as deeply as she does but still making absolutely everyone around me laugh I’ll look back very happily at my life.
To sisters, to family, to soulmates and to the people in your life that stands like warrior princesses and fight that darkness in the bottom of your soul with everything that they are.
Letters to my family 