I'm excited to introduce you to today's guest blogger; Kristie and I are relatively new(ish) blog friends, but it didn't take long for me to realize that Kristie's blog would quickly become one of my favorites. With her English degree, it's no surprise that Kristie has a gift with words; her posts read like eloquent prose - beautiful, brave...captivating. I am a fan of the written word in general, but I have deep respect for those who have the ability to pen even the darkest of thoughts with elegance, beauty and light.
The Best Advice I've Received: Wear More Pink
Both are glossy boxes of color—photos in which we are smiling. The first picture holds Kelsey’s grin as it spreads over her face. One, two, three wrinkles line her nose and a clear smile full of teeth. I stand to Kelsey’s left with my arms by my side. Kels is shorter than me with a bigger smile; she wants to be in this picture. She’s a 3-year-old plump old lady with chubby hands and a cute dress. Her arms are by her side. The dress has a big white collar—a sort of bib hanging round her neck. The dress is pink with bows. I never really liked pink. I’m in blue.
I’m in sky blue dress with bows and a white bib. Mom dressed us alike, two little Spanish dolls standing in front of yellow flowers. I don’t recall this moment, but it happened. No matter—we seem happy and content while enjoying a time unremembered.
The second photo is brighter—newer—no bibs, no bows. “I Love Soccer” is written in white across my bright red shirt. Kels is in dark blue overalls and a striped tank top. My right arm stretches across to touch her shoulder, but there are people in between: more sisters—Kathryn and Keren smile with all their teeth. Our skin is brown from the Florida sun. I’m still taller, but you can’t tell. We‘re sitting, leaning forward, with Keren scrunched in between her older sisters. Her gray t-shirt shows the changing times—Mom lets her dress herself. Kathryn is the one in pink; it’s the same pink Kelsey once wore. We are four sisters on a patterned couch.
Kelsey turned out to be the middle child. In family videos she mimics my movements as I whine that she won’t leave me alone. I was the big sister who wore blue, she was the little sister who wore pink; we were different and I tried to keep it that way. Until one day I discovered it didn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
Sometimes I’m so busy trying to define myself in my corner of the world that I forget to embrace the relationships around me, the women around me, the women who are beautiful, talented and kick-a** human beings. There’s often an unspoken, unapologetic competition among women. A subconscious voice wondering, “Am I better than her? Am I more athletic? Am I funnier, prettier, smarter?" But it doesn’t matter if you are. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t. It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because someone else's accomplishments or talent or beauty do not add or take away from your own. It does not affect your immeasurable value as a human being. You are worthy.
Kelsey could never be me, and I could never be her. Her self-discovery wasn’t a reflection of who I was. She was my sister. My sister. What a gift. We both love music. We love creating. We love people. She was the first family member to read my blog and tell me she "loved it." "Write more!" she demanded. I tried to make us different, but did it really matter?
Maybe I should try to learn from her.
Maybe I should see other women as sisters.
Maybe I should wear pink.
Kelsey, and Keren (holding our brother Jonathan)
Thank you, Kristie, for sharing with us the powerful truth in your personal experience! My sister-friend, there is a lot I can learn from you. :)
Friends, please take a moment to check out Kristie's blog. Get lost in her chronicles and you'll quickly see that her blog is like a good book you can't put down.
And for those on Twitter, you can also follow her, here.