A couple weeks ago, I received a book of poems written by Meg Files (my mentor and writing teacher), paintings by Susan Reimer, and photographs by Sally Cullen, all captured together. They are three sisters who traveled to Iceland. The Secret Destination is the story of their journey. I can’t read nor flip the through the pages enough. The book is beautiful in all ways as it describes their sister relationships and reveals the magnificence of Iceland.
Part of the reason I enjoy their book so much is because I am so incredibly fortunate to be close to my sisters. They live in another state, and I haven’t seen my older one in seventeen months and my younger in fifteen. Yes, I have kept track. They have lived in the same town for over seven years and I long to be with them. We are hooked together like links on a chain, that bonded, that strong.
Meg tells of “the comfort of your sisters’ secret twin language” as she falls asleep on the bus. I get what she means. My sisters and I, too, have our own language. We effortlessly know what the other is going to say before they’ve finished their sentence. People say we even use the same gestures to communicate, and we look at them with surprise. “We do?” We had no idea. It’s been as natural to us as harvesting corn in the fall.
We’ve cried together, laughed over and over about the same memories, grieved over loved ones, called each other to ask about their well-being, even before mentioned. We attribute it to our thoughts traveling silently across the miles, no words yet spoken, just intuition.
The years beyond are much shorter and our bodies let us know. If I allow myself to even entertain the thought, I ask myself how it would ever be without them? I don’t respond. The answer lies within my heart, as they do.
I am excited as I write this because in twenty-four hours I will travel with my daughter and granddaughter to visit, to be with them…finally. But who’s counting?