Growing up, Lia and I shared the first upstairs bedroom. Enclosed within the light purple walls was an old chestnut canopy bed tucked away in the left-hand corner, with Lia’s white trundle bed sitting parallel. The carpeted floor was a clutter of dolls, books, stuffed animals, and the odd pink sparkly headband or two.
Lia and baby Roisin playing in our room behind Lia's trundle bed
At night, after our mom or dad had read us a book of our choice or had practiced math or writing with us on a petite, old-school chalkboard, we ran into our separate corners and jumped under our covers. We waited our turn for goodnights, nestling into our sheets as the lights flipped off. As the last of the light dimmed with the shutting door, our nightly routine began.
We giggled as covers flew up and feet pattered around. Careful as to avoid being caught by the adults still downstairs, we assembled our books and toys with only the faint bathroom light peering through the two shutter doors. Whispers exchanged and quiet laughter stifled. We talked about school, sports, our toys, and pretty much any topic that we could think of in attempts to stay awake. On our best nights, Lia and I would take turns telling stories, making up characters loosely following the plot of wandering through a dark forest, meeting a handsome prince, and then moving into a castle. We’d sing our favorite songs back and forth until finally disturbing our parents enough to earn a stern reminder that we should have been asleep half an hour ago.
I thought back to a time recently when I was wide awake, yet we were miles apart. I was in Ireland, and she was back at school in Austin. I called her, explaining to her that I could not fall asleep, no matter how hard I tried. She immediately asked about my day, not once complaining that I had interrupted what she was doing. Before I knew it, she was telling me a bedtime story over the phone, just like we used to do as little girls. I nodded off to sleep almost instantly, with Lia staying on Facetime until she was sure that I had conked.
I’ll start by telling you a bit about Lia and our dynamic. Lia is all things funny and authentic. She does not care what others think and makes everybody around her smile. Though I’m technically the older sister, she reprimands me and knocks me into place more than I’d like to admit. She’s tough and honest and is the most loyal human being I’ve ever encountered. She’ll call me out on pretty much everything, which I can’t help but laugh about because somebody has to do it! She cares for people she loves so deeply that I’m convinced she would take more than a few bullets for them. She listens and listens, never telling me she’s bored or annoyed, no matter how much I talk or how many times I say the same thing. Witty with her humor, she’s one of the only people who can make me really laugh- like tears rolling down your cheeks laugh. She is smart and wise. She works hard for everything she desires in life. I say this with complete seriousness: I do not know where or who I would be without Lia in my life.
A home video of one of our favorite things to do as little girls- play mermaids and sing
Fast forward about fifteen years from our initial roommate days, Lia came to visit me down in Australia for just a week. As we squished into a twin-sized bed in my student accommodation, I realized that not much had changed. We talked and laughed, making sarcastic comments about cover-stealing or bed-hogging. I thought back to our purple childhood room. And then, I laid looking up at the ceiling, wondering if there would be another time, enough time, that we would be together like this.
I came to realise that one of the greatest mysteries, joys, and tragedies in life is time. The more of it you want, the less of it there seems to be. Time is wonderful when something amazing is on the horizon but is equally dreadful when that occurrence ceases to exist. But throughout the time I’ve lived, there has been one constant in my life, one which I know will never change at its core.
That constant is Lia. While we might have changed since being five and four-year-olds, something about our relationship always feels so familiar. I cannot think of another way to describe sisterhood other than a bond completely stripped of every outer layer. Sisters expose the truest version of you, no matter how buried or dimmed or different you might feel. After spending just a few minutes with Lia, I become the same little girl from years before.
Watching the sunset in Byron Bay after a day of a cancelled snorkel trip, a phone stuck in an underwater case, and Lia leading me way past our correct exit- we somehow managed to laugh about it an hour later.
I recently read a book by an author named Dolly Alderton called “Everything I Know About Love.” Alderton excites readers with a hilarious recollection of her best and worst moments in love in her teen years and in her twenties. However, at the end of it all, she states, “Nearly everything I know about love, I've learnt from my long-term friendships with women.”
Thinking about this statement, I cannot help but agree with Alderton. Sometimes I think that Lia and I might fatally injure each other in our worst moments, but there are other times when I can’t imagine being less than two feet away from her without my heart feeling empty. No matter how much time goes by, there is never a stalled or standstill feeling. She’s the only person who willingly (and I'd like to hope excitedly) listens to my entire playlist of music made decades before we were born. Through the highs and lows of life, Lia never faded when anything felt difficult or uncomfortable. We really have been by each other’s sides through everything, and I think that’s what love is, in its purest form. To see every side of somebody, and to want to be in their corner still.
Lia piggybacking me about NYC after I broke my foot and got out of my boot days before (she looks thrilled)
I could go on and on about my sisters (I owe just as much credit to Roisin for her constant love, friendship, and guidance) as most people who know me have discovered. Whether our bond with each other is unique or we were somehow perfectly paired I do not know, but I do hope that anybody with a sister is able to understand this experience.
If you have little girls, the best piece of advice I can give you is to make them best friends.
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