My sister is four years older than me. She’s got brown skin and curly black hair, while I’m pale and blonde and look nothing like her.
Her oldest daughter EJ is four years older than my daughter Delilah. We live three hundred miles apart but whenever we get our girls together the nostalgia takes hold — watching our girls together is like watching home movies of our own youth.
It’s hard sometimes to step back from the craziness of the way our lives are these days, but if anything makes it possible it’s our kids. My nieces and my daughter have such a special relationship that it’s almost like us grown ups have no choice but the stop and soak it in. The time we get to spend together is bookended by the 300 mile drive that separates L.A. from San Francisco but it’s worth it every time.
Even when the first three hours of the drive home is spent with a very distraught three year old still screaming that she doesn’t want to leave her cousins house. Even when I think my heart is going to tear clean out of my chest when I have to tell my sweet baby that yes, I wish we could sleep over her cousins house for ever and ever too, and no, it’s NOT fair that they live so far away.