I need a little quiet time. I grew up with three of these sister. Two more; plus three brothers. No wonder Grandpa dubbed us the Magpies. Non-stop talking, and tons of laughing. In there somewhere, I’m learning a lot about myself. My mind needs some time to wander. A little time to put together sentences that become paragraphs helps the pictures come into focus.
I’m sharing a room with my older, by 13 months, sister, Deanna. We planned to all share a room, the five of us, with two beds and a roll-away. Saving some money is woven into our fiber. Deanna made an executive decision, and reserved two rooms; adjoining. Oh thank you Deanna! In the evening, it’s difficult to separate ourselves from the other three and all the joint chatter-laughter. Still, after the door closes between the rooms, Deanna and I have some time to reconnect and have in-depths discussions. We agree on so much.
Four women raised to be compassionate, turn the other cheek, look at things from another perspective, and at the same time take charge, make decisions, and determine our own destiny. Sprinkle on a desire to connect with each other and savor every moment.
Stop. Close your eyes. Envision navigating in a Chrysler mini van with this group.
“Okay, you are going to get off at the next exit on the right and get in the left lane.”
“I only want to know what I need to do next.”
“Okay, but you will need to do the turn immediately after that in a matter of feet.”
“I only want to know what I need to do next.”
“Let me just read it through once, because you are going to go left, then immediately right.”
“That’s too much information. Just tell me what I need to do next.”
“Here let me read the direction,” from another sister.
“Turn right on Eagle Point road.”
“Which way?”
“I said right.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Turn right on Eagle Point road.”
“Is that the very next thing?”
“No. Get off on the exit first.”
“I only want to know what I need to do next.”
“U-turn, you missed the exit.”
“Can you adjust the air-conditioning? It’s hot flash time.”
“My feet are freezing.”
“Did you see the ‘Prancercise’ video? That’s Bonita, for sure.”
“Look at that camel-toe.”
“No she’s just skinny.”
“How many Weight Watcher ooints in a gummy worm?”
“Anyone ready for ice-cream?”
“I’m on the Mediteranian Diet.”
“What’s that?”
“Okay, how long will I be on this road?”
“Fifteen miles then turn left at Jenny Neck Road.”
“I only want to know what I need to do next.”
All this with chatter, guffaws, vibrates the windows.
The first place we stop is the National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and her school for girls. Fourteen girls living in a tiny three room stone house with oilpaper windows and cracks in the mortar.
Elizabeth Ann was bound for heaven on the Glory Train after just one winter. No doubt in my mind.