Sisters: We Are All Whole

Sisters, I have two. No, make that three. I mean four. One whole, two halves, and one step. But, growing up, I thought I was an only child. That's because my whole avoided me at every opportunity, one of the halves thought I was her mother, I didn't meet the other half until we were in our forties, and the step was out of the house, married with children when we met.

Judy, the whole, likes me now. At least I think she does. Otherwise, why would she send me birthday and Christmas cards? Wait a minute! Did I get a Christmas card from her this year?

Lynnette, one of the halves, calls me Sissy, but she spells it M O T H E R. That's because I raised her. Don't tell my mother that, though. She hasn't been in a good mood lately, and that piece of news would not go over well.

Janet, my other half, likes both of her halves and wishes they were whole. She doesn't know my other half, and that's all I'm going to say about that.

Helen, my step, refuses to do the math. She loves every single one of us equally, and to her, we are all whole.