I gave up trying to tame my hair a long time ago. It doesn’t really listen and it goes all rogue and has its own mind and its own reality television show.
It was a battle I was never going to win.
Now, I just encourage the curls and let it go, but when I was younger, I tried valiantly to fight the fight. I would spend hours with a curling iron, painstakingly twisting each strand of hair under around my face….
….kind of like a jelly roll with a barrette.
When my sister saw my incredible hair-don’t, she wanted to look just like me–so I’d jelly roll her hair, too.
I couldn’t help it. I had to share the pastry-hair wealth.
Because having your back–hairdo or otherwise–that’s what sisters do.
This past Friday was our school’s last track meet of the season.
If you’ve ever been to a track meet before, you know it’s hours of waiting and staring and watching a zillion other events before they call the one event you came to see.
That was us.
Four hours into the meet, the announcer finally called the 800 meter.
Both of my twin daughters stepped onto the track.
The 800 meter is a hard race. It’s two times around the track and you have to pace yourself. If you go too slow at the beginning you get behind and everyone else passes you and you have to play catch up for the remainder of the race. Or, if you start out too fast and try to lead the pack, you lose steam and can’t keep up the pace.
That’s what happened to one of the twins.
She started out so strong.
I watched as she almost sprinted the first 400 meters. When she passed the half-way mark her face was a study in determination. Her chin was set. Her eyes were focused. She was running the race like a champion.
Then mid-way through the race–she lost her steam.
You could see it in her stride. It became slower and slower and slower and slower–until all the other racers passed her.
Until she was last.
Until she was all alone–slowly and painfully putting one running foot in front of the other.
My heart ached for her.
I watched her face and saw her spirits droop. I saw the sadness. I saw the anguish and sorrow and overwhelming defeat etched in every step of her race. I thought she was done. I was worried she might not finish.
Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t running by herself any more. There was another pair of running shoes next to hers. Shoes that matched her step for step, length for length and meter for meter.
Believing in her.
Helping her run the last steps of her race.
Her twin sister had dropped back to run beside her.
I watched in awe as they finished the final 25 meters together, feet pounding the track, arms moving like clockwork, pony-tails swishing in time…
….as they crossed the finish line together.
That’s what sisters do.
They are there in the best of times and the worst of times.
They’re there for every bad date, every unfortunate choice of eye shadow, every awkward moment, every triumph and every jelly roll hairdo.
It’s good to have a sister.
Especially one who has your back…
…and your track shoes. 🙂
PS Here are some behind the scenes after the meet.
I hope you like an outtake. 🙂