Saturday, August 27, 2005
Kristen and Kara have known me from my birth. Literally. Kristen is two years old than I am, and Kara is four years older, and it wasn't long after I was born that I was shuttling back and forth between their home on Wendmere Lane and my home on Kentucky Avenue. Kristen and Kara remember me before I remember myself.
Kara, four years older than I, taught me to read the word "breakfast." She paired Kristen and I as groom and bride in one of the many wedding ceremonies that she officiated. Kristen and I would sunbathe like lizards on the big rocks outside the Kauffman home, and then come into the living room and pretend it was an ocean that we had to swim across. I sat on Kara's Heidi record and she swore she would never forgive me. Kristen taught me that the word "KaKa" was a word about feces in Spanish and would irritate my mother to know end if I spoke it regularly. Kristen and Kara comforted me when Fruma Sarah sang on the Fiddler on the Roof album and I would cry, and on the morning when Robert and I got married they sent me flowers with a card that said, "This bouquet is just for the bride." They took pity on the only child, and adopted me with open arms.
Our fathers were best friends...that would be Jim the Father and John the Father...Reverend Blue Jeans and Nikon John. They photographed together. They enjoyed good scotch together. They talked often. John gave my father his first camera. Dad dedicated one of his books to John. We took father/daughter escapades to far-reaching places like Maine and Colorado...and also spent quiet evenings eating homemade meals in Fort Wayne. I sat one night at the Hospice Home and recalled stories of our trips to John as he spent a restless night tossing and turning and pulling at his covers, a night when the only thing I could offer Kristen and Kara was a brief respite from the many hours and nights they spent at their father's side. My dad preached at John's funeral.
Kristen and Kara have been here this weekend...here with their families and we have reveled in Genevieve's 4-month-old smiles, and laughed at Lily's almost-two-year-old pronunciations of words.
I am blessed to have these sisters. How can God be so good?