My sister, T and I are thirteen months apart, just shy of Irish twins. For some weird reason, we have almost always got along. There have certainly been those vicious hair-pulling, gut-kicking fights, but mostly, we have just enjoyed each other’s company. As kids, we climbed the thin pines lining our woodsy backyard. If stuck inside, we happily cast our American Girl dolls onto a desert island and made them eat the ants & worms from Molly’s camping kit. T loved turning our family’s coffee table into a well-made bed. I loved shining up my collection of Breyer horses with Vaseline.
Our absolute favorite pastime as sisters, though, was singing.
We sang everything and anything with fervor. Sometimes, in the tub, we sang Ariel’s arpeggiating “Aaahs” so well, I thought we’d sprout fishtails. Sometimes, playing Legos in the basement, we sang the American Tail theme song, “Somewhere Out There” with such conviction, I believed we must be miles apart, living in tin cans.
A song T & I once sang together “visited” me yesterday morning while I cut fabric for zipper pouches. At seven-years old, we loved this song so much and sang it, like all songs, with exaggerated yearning. In the song, an old woman is tossed up in a basket to brush cobwebs from the sky. “‘Old woman,’ cried I, ‘May I go with you by & by?'” Singing this, we wanted to conjure up that old woman, ask her ourselves to see if we were brave enough to leave this world for hers.
Extra Bit: These Holga photos were taken in Kinvara, Co. Galway, Ireland, where there were beautiful, handmade quilts at our rental house.