I met a woman twelve years ago, working with youth. Because of the type of work, a close relationship was a must. When we both left the job, we stayed in touch. I have a personal policy to remain professional with individuals I work with, however after the job ended, our relationship also changed. We became friends, as we both had children, shared cultural background and language.
As years passed, I would share with her some of my frustrations with my teenager. She would speak to my child and puff, all of a sudden what I said to my child made sense, because my friend said the same thing. It also helped that my friend and I had similar values and principals, including same values when it came to family rearing. My friend and I have shared laughter, tears, food, children, household, music, and secrets.
My child began to talk and treat her children as her cousins; all of a sudden I had nieces and nephews and they call me aunty. My friend and I miss each other when we are apart, when we are together we talk about everything under the sun. I admire her and think very highly of her accomplishments without fear or threat of jealousy. She feels the same and we have told each other so.
My friend is no longer my friend she is my sister. We talk about growing children, growing old and never being apart. We both cried the day she old me that I was more her sister than her own sibling. My sister has accepted me the way I am, I have done the same. We do not judge each other, however we love one another. My sister and I will grow old and always love each other, even if we do not share same parents. She’s my sister, not really.