< 1 minute read

Last month has been a roller coaster. Turning a year older and starting a fresh in most areas in my life including this blog.

Siblings are a gift that I might not deserve. With my sisters, I can be my most primal self: inarticulate, childishly emotional. I’ll have a fight with my sister and say, ‘OK, I know we’re in a fight, but I need your advice on something,’ and we can just put the fight on hold. They’re the only people in the world you can be your worst self with and they’ll still accept you.”

Sister Tag video (We complement each other)

My siblings have certainly seen me at my worst, and I’ve seen them at theirs. No one has bolted. It’s as if we signed some contract long ago, before we were even aware of what we were getting into, and over time gained the wisdom to see that we hadn’t been duped. We’d been graced: with a center of gravity; with an audience that never averts its gaze and doesn’t stint on applause. For each of us, a new home, a new relationship or a new situation was never quite real until the rest of us had been ushered in to the front row.

Most times I have to decode what they want and it won’t be difficult. I have decades of history to draw from, along with an instinct I can’t even explain.

So today, call that brother/sister up and catch up on old times.

Authentically African!

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