I miss y'all this morning.

One of the best gifts a parent can give a child is a sibling... or in my case, five of them.  "Four sisters and one brother... Yes, one set of twins.  No, we aren't Catholic."  I used to give these answers on autopilot when people would ask about the size of our family.  I also got used to the question- well, really the statement: "You're a York!"  In college, before Christopher met my family, that used to really freak him out.  I guess that is a little creepy, when a stranger knows your last name just by looking at you.  It was just part of life to the six of us.  We seemed to share more than just a slight sibling resemblance.  It was more than that.  Actually, way more than that.

We shared rooms.  For a while, it was the pink room with the bunk bed set on McIntyre.  I got to sleep in the trundle, which in hindsight was really a drawer that happened to be about the size of a bed.  Later it was four of us down in the "big room" on Mordecai.  Yes, four.  We shared in Christmas traditions: The Christmas Eve pallet, Advent (B is for Bells, anyone?), matching pajamas and drawing names for Secret Angel.  We all shared in the embarrassment brought by our "Big Red" club wagon, and in the trips it took us on: Junaluska, Gulf Shores, Louisiana, Walmart.  I wouldn't care at all if walls could talk.  All I want to know is what Big Red would have to say.  We shared a love for our extended family; Meme's Sunday lunches, Mamie's Black Friday Bell Ringer tradition, and Big Dad's life-threatening road trips.  And Pid.  Capture the Flag, Kick the Can, the Shopping Center, bike rides, Monster, roller blading, The Swing, Sunday School.  Those things sort of belittle what our relationship with him really was... I just don't know how put the other stuff into words.  All I know is that when it comes to the things we shared, he was one of the most unifying ones.  We shared the grief of losing him and I think we also probably share that pre-thought impulse to pick up the phone and call him when we need advice or have big news.  I know that was one of my first instincts when I found out I was pregnant.   And that was 3 years later.  We shared in the mixture of relief and sadness as each one of us left for college, and in the excitement of each reunion we've had since then.  Now we share in a collective addiction to coffee (FINALLY, we won Austin over),  a hunt for inexpensive plane tickets and a love for a little baby named Sarah Claire.   

I miss my siblings more than I know how to say, and way more than I ever thought I would.  I HATE that we live so far apart, and I always imagine what life would be like if we could all meet for dinner or coffee or a quick run whenever we wanted.  I'm sure there would be plenty of arguments and differences- there always has been, and there always will be- but I would give just about anything to know that we could be there for each other when one of us had a rough day or when one of us had something to celebrate.  My siblings aren't just my siblings anymore.  They are my best friends, and I love them unconditionally.  I mean it when I say that siblings are the best gifts you can give a child; and - at least in our case - the more, the merrier.