As I said yesterday, I frequent WDW quite often. Several of these trips include my sister, Marilyn. We plan trips for races (where we bring up the back), for fun (sometimes never getting on a ride), and for cruises (because we are princesses). By the way, she is Cinderella, and I am Sleeping Beauty.
We can trace our Disney roots back to August of 1974, when we first visited The Magic Kingdom with our parents. Marilyn was in college, I was about to begin college, and my brother was in high school. My parents still thought we were too young to be out of their sight. Therefore, we did EVERYTHING together as a group, including my "interesting" aunt (who, when I said I wanted seafood for lunch, she said Burger King had a good fish sandwich). Sorry, I digress.
We managed to survive the day without bloodshed, and it was almost time for the big fireworks show. We had never seen a big fireworks show. We lived on a farm in a small town in Mississippi. Our idea of fireworks was my father shooting Roman candles off in the backyard. Apparently he felt that the Disney fireworks were probably on the same level as his display, and decided it was time to leave to "beat the crowds." Naturally, my sister and I were appalled, as we knew the fireworks were probably going to be second only to the Second Coming.
We tried everything, from walking slowly, to going to the bathroom, to begging and pleading, but to no avail. We left before the fireworks, thus leaving a gaping hole in our hearts (do you hear the violins yet?).
We believe this incident scarred our delicate lives forever. We are currently in search of a therapist who will certify this as a traumatic psychological disorder which needs on-site therapy, so we can submit our trips to our respective insurance companies. Alas, so far we haven't found a cutting-edge professional to do so. So, instead, we feed our sickness and continue to plan trips to our homeland (all things Disney) in search of inner peace (I know I hear violins - but I think they are playing "It's a Small World").
Nearly all of our trips have been since our children have become adults, and another large number haven't even included children. This is probably another issue our yet-to-be-found therapist needs to address. (Maybe we could score a diagnosis if we volunteered to bring the therapist WITH us on a trip. Hmmmm.)
Anyhow, we have even made plans for when we get old and decrepit. When we are in wheelchairs, complete with oxygen tanks and feeding tubes (although we are trying our best to store reserves on our bodies so we can live off the reserves like whales), we feel we can continue to make our pilgrimages to Disney World. All we ask is that someone just park us on Main Street and let us people watch. Yes, we are the Lewis sisters, and we are Disneyworldaholics.
I tell you all this because I saw our future today. This morning was sunny, so Steve and I went to the pool. Across the way were two much older ladies sitting in their chairs, sunning by the pool. I like to believe that they are sisters, still getting their "fix." It's easy to see Marilyn and me in 25 years, doing the same.
There are some things that only sisters can share. If we're lucky enough to have a sister, we have the possibility that somewhere along the way, we will also have a best friend. It's the kind of friend that even though you're as different as day and night, you still remain friends because there's a bond that cannot be separated. You share memories, you share secrets, you may share DNA, and you share a life. You're there for each other no matter what, whether you agree or disagree, and whether you think the other is right or wrong.
I'm very blessed to have all of the above. I have a sister who may not always understand me, but will always have my back - especially if we're headed down Splash Mountain!