“It’s time for a sister trip,” the text stated.
My sister, Diane, sent the same message to me and our youngest sister, Donna.
She was right.
Years ago, we’d take a sister trip every summer. Looking at the text, I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us got away for a girls weekend.
Life got in the way. Weddings came along and then babies and an outside-the-home job.
With those life events came understanding. Instead of seeing each other as pesky siblings, we saw each other as strong women, balancing work and family.
Years ago, we decided we needed to reconnect and decided on “sister trips” and our mom came along. One year, we all headed to Las Vegas as mom’s brothers lived there.
Our sister-in-law, Debra – who after 40 years of marriage to our brother is really our sister – and our youngest brother Jeff joined us.
We had a blast seeing the lights and action on the Vegas strip. A laser tag game was one for the books when Jeff’s only mission was to follow Diane around and blast her every time her power light came back on.
A trip to Charlotte, N.C. was one I’ll always remember. Not just because of the midnight ghost tour we took in the downtown area and touring the majestic Biltmore but because we were all together in a beautiful bed-and-breakfast antebellum home.
As our children grew into adults and grandchildren arrived, we stopped going on our sister trips. We’d promise each other that the next year would be different, but something always came up and the trip would get cancelled.
But not this year.
Diane was adamant we get together, and we settled on Houston. Reservations and tentative plans were made, but we left most of the long weekend to chance.
Our first afternoon was spent at a spa. I’ve never gotten a facial or a massage, but my sisters told me the experience would be great.
And it was.
Soft music played while the technician kneaded my tense muscles, convincing me to enjoy the relaxing music and soothing scents. The technician spent more time giving me a facial than I spend on my face in a month.
Dinner was a wonderful treat at Yia Yia Mary’s Greek Kitchen with a sinfully rich and absolutely scrumptious baklava cheesecake for dessert.
We thought we’d hit the jackpot with that, but when we happened on an 90 percent off the already-marked-down sale price at a favorite clothing store, our weekend ratcheted up to a whole new level.
It had been a long time since I’d gone clothes shopping, and I’d forgotten how much bonding takes place in the dressing room as women toss pants and shirts to each other over the doors and answer the age-old question “does this make me look fat?”
We spent our last night watching the LSU Tigers win their season opener, comparing our aches, knee troubles, wrinkles and cellulite during the commercials.
Wee reminisced about our parents, friends from the old neighborhood and reliving favorite family memories.
Driving them back to the airport, I thought about how much sisters mean to each other, from sisters by birth to those through marriage and those who’ve become sisters through friendship.
We’ve shared good times and bad, fun times and not-so-fun ones. My sisters tease me, accept me and love me unconditionally. I feel the same way about them.
I wouldn’t trade my sisters for anything, and I can’t wait until the next sister trip. Who knows what adventures await?
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.