Harvesting Raspberries

There's a lot of turmoil that comes with sisters.  There's hitting and biting and hair pulling.  There's name calling and toy stealing and attention grabbing.  There's also lying and tattling and, of course, trickery.  But for all the animosity, for all the confrontation and frustration that comes with having a person so close to you, someone who from day one you're in as much competition with (for milk, for mom, for anything and everything) as you are reliant on for support and strength, there's one thing that siblings don't have with each other that the rest of the world does. ... walls.  There's no pretenses.  There's no gimmicks.  No fakeness.  You know me and I know you and I accept you just as you accept me.  I know this with my own sisters, but to see it from the perspective of the parent is a beautiful thing to watch.  Last night. ... it all came down to harvesting raspberries.  I had the girls all upstairs, drawing the bath, when I noticed Rosaline and I were alone in the bathroom.  I walked in the next room to break up what ever fight was causing the delay when I came upon the scene.  Two naked little bodies, intertwined on the bedroom floor, blowing farts on each others bellies and laughing.  Laughing that pure, unfiltered laugh that you only do with the people you truly trust.  Now that's beautiful.  For all the conflict they seem to have, for all the screaming and all the "sissie did's". ... it pales in comparision to the love these two really have for each other.  The trust they place in the other.  The comfort they find in their lifelong companion.  It all comes down to harvesting raspberries.