Hot Tubbing

I wiggle into my bathing suit, happy that the boys are not around to mock me out, and tiptoe downstairs to the back patio where Deb has uncovered her hot tub. She pours us sparkling peach juice and we gently slide into the warm water, sighing contentedly.

Ginger, her dog, plays nearby while we chat and soak, lifting our faces to the blue blue sky and laughing as tiny bubbles tickle our legs. It has been eons since Deb and I have had each other to our selves with no other sister or kids or friends about to interrupt our conversation. We leisurely catch up on life, both of us having been through tough spaces lately.

We share our hearts and I remember how Deb met us in NYC when we were traveling home for Michael's funeral. She was in med school and ferried us through a maze of streets while my heart was raw and bleeding, sheltering us from further distress, seeing to our needs as we took our son home for burial.

I remember when Deb returned from a summer in Africa, full of stories about how bad the medical care is over there, how hard life was, how demanding the situations in which she found herself. We talked all night long, so into our conversation we never realized the passing of time. We have done that before, talked all night.

When I had my first bout of cancer, she took massive time off to come be with me, helping with the care of the boys, explaining about medical stuff, just being available. What would I do without this precious sister? She and I are nothing alike. She is NY sophisticated, slender, beautiful, caring. I am frumpy older country pumpkin beaten up by life. Yet we never lack for topics that interest us both.

She could not take the hard places out of my life nor I hers. But I am very fortunate that she has taken time to be invested in my life when I most needed a hand to hold. Sisters can indeed be blessings beyond imagining. Especially when she owns a hot tub!