We were like the modern-day Little Women.
Without the petty coats, pastries, ball gowns and carriages.
We had booty pants, yoga mats, tattoos and degrees.
We had hundreds of acres of land to roam and a big white house that looked like a villa.
We excelled in every subject, were first chair in band, held starting positions in any sport.
Our mother French braided our hair at night and tamed us into beautiful women.
Our father taught us history and how to tie hop strings.
They raised us on a farm and made us into strong, independent beings.
We played Memory as children to help increase our own.
We played multiplication card games around the table after dinner. Spoons for fun. Jersey Pitch and Sequence when we became older.
We put on plays, skits and karaoke acts, that our father recorded on an old video tape recorder.
On rainy days we might pull the videos out and watch them from time to time.
We threw footballs in the yard, swung from homemade tire swings, and passed a soccer ball across the road on the soccer field our father mowed for us.
We put flowers in our hair for any wedding and danced in our bare feet at every reception.
We laid out on the back lawn in our sports bras and tanned in the valley sunlight.
We were sisters. Not per say best friends, but we kept our lives in the loop.
In the weekly group text, in our sporadic, random emails.
We weren’t neighbors, we lived out of state, we were years apart.
One had a family, one was getting divorced, one seemed to never want to settle.
Yet somehow, whenever we came home,
Whenever we came together again,
It felt as if we grew backwards.
Like we were once again the little women our mother told us we would be.
Like how we wanted to change the world all in the same way.
All in unison.
A shared success,
A written account,
of how we truly became
Women.