My son and daughter are best friends.
I thought about trying to link to all of the posts that chronicle their journey together, but there are oh so many.
When I found out that I was pregnant with my second child, I was so excited at the notion of a sibling for my girl.
At that point I was convinced that I was carrying a girl, and that my daughter would have a sister, just like I have, but my mother’s intuition meter was a bit off for a few months.
I first realized the magic that my two kids possessed as a team about two and a half years ago, when it occurred to me that they would always share something special with each other and with no one else on this earth. Not even with me.
Their bond has grown and grown and grown and deepened and deepened and deepened.
They have at least a dozen games that they’ve made up and they play them together, no one else on earth even existing when wrapped up in the fantasy world that they’ve created.
They play games called “Love you, Love you, Love you” and “Miss you, Miss you, Miss you”,
as well as “hot lava”, “make you smile”, “train game”, “Okay Okay”, “I’m a baby” and so many more that are so adorable and I wish that I could explain more about them, but I have not been let in on their secret; it is not that they would not share if I asked, but I want their treasures to remain their own, locked up in the box that they built together and will hold, safely, with one another and for one another when necessary. When the box becomes too heavy for one of them to hold, I hope that the other picks it up and holds it tenderly, as it is irreplaceable.
I want them to always have this.
Last week I shared the story of my son sleeping on the floor at the threshold of his bedroom, as a way to beat me with a technicality on his quest to stay close to his sister after lights out.
Even in our new house, where they each have much more space for themselves, they stay so close, talking to each other from their rooms at night.
Sometimes, she reads him bedtime stories from afar. And, I have caught them a few times together, under the covers, cuddled up, telling stories or singing a lullaby, and even though it is “against the rules”, it is also everything, and so rules be damned.
Last night was one of those nights. After I tucked them both in, each of them tired from a long day in the hot sun, I could hear them chatting and the scampering of little feet running down the hall.
And then, around 9:30pm, we discovered them together, sound asleep, curled up in my daughter’s bed. It was their first sleepover together, and it was spontaneous and organic and the cutest thing ever.
When I checked on them at 1am they were still sleeping, but switched to a head to foot position, yet still tangled up together, with my daughter’s arm around her brother’s leg.
These are the moments that we treasure. As parents. As people who love other people.
I love their love so much and I will do everything that I can to protect their treasure chest when they need a reminder of just how precious it is, but, at this moment, no one treasures it more than they do.
They make each other smile (and not just for the “make you smile” game).
They love each other deeply.
They hold onto each other, even in slumber.
They share dreams.
They are two,
na na na na na.
Sister and brother,
na na na na na.
It may not have the same ring, but it is, perhaps, more valuable than the original.
To my babies. To these siblings, who got off to a different (and difficult) start. To a lifetime of shared dreams.