I believe in the beauty of women. In the beauty of our bodies. In the beauty of our souls. In the beauty of our sisterhood.
It breaks my heart to think of those women out there who don’t have the kind of sisters I do—and by sisters I don’t necessarily mean “blood sisters”. Of course, sometimes our sisters will share our heritage, our parents, our name, but I am talking about those sisters who are bound by something deeper than the microscopic stuff of blood, tissue and DNA. I’m talking about those sisters who are bound by messy, unfailing, profound friendship.
I am a woman who is blessed, indescribably, because I am a part of this very kind of sisterhood.
It seems so incredibly unbelievable to me that only a few years ago my life had not yet felt the cherished warmth of their presence—these four remarkable women who I call my sisters. I can hardly remember a time when they were not all there in my mind, outlined against a deep blue patch of sky. They stand there today, like so many days before, all with their hair playing about their faces in the wind, their chins bent up toward the warm light. They are my confidants, my support, my inspiration. They are Erin, Lindsey, Karissa and Katelyn. They are beautiful, each reflecting the others brilliance like captivating shells in the salty sea sun.
Together, we are beautiful. What we have is beautiful.
Stretched out on our beloved futon we have carved entire afternoons and evenings out of our busy, stress-ridden lives—our voices rising and ebbing with the shadows on the wall. We have sat on kitchen counters, fraying couches, and hardwood floors together—crying, laughing, confessing. We have bolstered each other with affirmation—you are stunning we say; excited to give voice to the truth in a world that so often spits lies. You are exquisite, lovely, fascinating—our words flow forth to each other in joy. We radically dare to be ourselves together, to let our hair down and our secrets out. We dare to trust.
In the Picasso Museum in Paris there stands one of my favorite works by Pablo Picasso. Painted in 1922 during his neo-classical period, Picasso created Deux femmes courant sur la plage: a painting that for me embodies that very kind of exhilarating freedom that comes with the vulnerability of true friendship. It is the kind of freedom that feels a lot like wind in your hair and sand in your toes—the kind that runs along a deep blue beach, hand in hand with a sister.
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