baby (sister) mama

I'm sitting in an oversized chair in my baby sister's livingroom, New Mexico sunshine pouring in through the windows. My baby sleeps in the guestroom, and I watch my sister and her hubby with their eight week old baby girl.

My sister has become a mother, and I look at her with admiration and love.

I have four sisters, but only one of them is my little sister. I have always assumed the role of her protector, her guide, her friend. I pushed girls against the walls of elementary school bathrooms because they messed with her, fired warning shots across the bow at boys who looked in her direction, and opened up my futon as a refuge on a new college campus. We stood in places of honor on each other's wedding days, and although we now live thousands of miles apart, I hold her dearly in my heart.

But our roles have shifted over the last decade, as they should. And I no longer need to protect or guide her. We are peers, friends, sisters. And when I see her during our one or two visits a year, I stare open-jawed in admiration of the woman that she is, that she became while I was too busy having babies to notice.

I look to her more than she knows - I learn from her faith, her radiant spirituality, her devotion. She shares her gifts and spreads her grace with everyone whose path intersects her life.

I watch her as a mother - her confidence, her ease, her joy in mamahood. I wonder if I felt the way she looks when I nursed and cradled and soothed my first baby six years ago. I am so proud of her, so in love with her, my sister.

I am grateful for her presence in my life, as I am for all of my sisters. But today, I am here with her, with this sister. My baby sister, and she shines brightly.

**edited to add** I just got home and it's now Tuesday night. This post fits too well with Tuesdays Unwrapped for me not to link up, so I'm joining in at the last minute.