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Rinckey: Sisters by chance, friends by choice

How family hardships brought my sisters and me together

Morgan Rinckey, Opinion Editor

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When I was a kid, my best friends were my sisters — but I wasn’t my sisters’ best friend. They bonded for two years before I was born, quickly becoming the best of friends and purposely not giving me an invitation to the club.

But it wasn’t for lack of trying.

I tried every trick in the book to befriend them. Always donating my time and services, I was determined to be a helpful little sister and was fueled by the desire for their acceptance. My 10-year-old sister Monica needed help moving cinder blocks so she could build a sturdy foundation for her fort in the backyard. At only 10, she lacked the muscle to do the job alone and recruited me — a 6-year-old — to help carry the blocks.

Try as I might, that concrete block slipped out of my hands and straight onto her foot. I looked at her and ran, because I knew if she caught me, I would be dead before I turned 7. Now one of her toenails still doesn’t grow. But in my defense, if a 10-year-old can’t lift a cinder block, then adding a six-year-old to the equation probably doesn’t increase the odds by much.

I liked hanging out with them, but they didn’t seem to enjoy my company one bit. I was in a pickle: how do you connect with your sisters if they won’t talk to you?

So naturally, I would snoop around Mallory’s room to read her diary and learn about her mysterious life. Her diary, which she never kept up-to-date, clued me in on what she was up to. My mission overrode my guilt; if the diary was supposed to be private, why was it poorly hidden in one of her drawers?

Years have since then passed as they typically do. They moved out of the house, and I commute to college from home, each of us set on pursuing our own separate destinies. However, what we didn’t anticipate were the instances of turmoil that would soon test our family’s strength.

In the past year, there has been a string of explosions set off one by one. My brother labeled himself a prankster after he graphically vandalized a football field late one summer night, ruining his name and future when his name was released to the media. Shortly after that, my sister discovered her husband had been cheating on her.

And it got worse. Doctors spotted something strange in my dad’s lung that looked potentially like cancer. Our entire family spent a few weeks nervously pacing and mentally preparing for the worst. Luckily the results showed it wasn’t cancer, and he had it biopsied over spring break.

The anxiety of the future, the heartbreak and life-scare sparked a change in the relationship I had with my sisters.

Our communication has improved ten-fold. During the long days and nights waiting for news about dad, we would keep each other updated by text. If my dad was in surgery or my brother’s court dates were postponed, one of us would fill in the others immediately.

During the rare moments we all spend time together instead of fighting, arguing or bickering, we actually talk now. Instead of spitting snippy comments of aggression, we understand the value of peace. After all, none of us know when the last time we might see each other could be.

With age comes wisdom; but learning what’s truly important in life isn’t always a gentle process. For my sisters and me, the frailty of life was made apparent in such a way that there’s no returning to the former days before our eyes were opened. The value of family is immeasurable.

Now that I’m in college, my sisters treat me like a friend and confidant — a nice change up from feeling like the odd child out. I’m proud to say we’re long past the days when my sister hit me over the head with a hardcover Harry Potter novel. Instead of looking at me as the little sister who couldn’t keep up because her dress kept getting stuck in her tricycle tires, they see me as an equal.

My best friends are my sisters, and I hope I’m my sisters’ best friend too.

Morgan Rinckey is a second-year double-majoring in English and Communication and is the Opinion Editor for The Independent Collegian.

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Serving the University of Toledo community since 1919.
Rinckey: Sisters by chance, friends by choice