I am 8 years older than my sister, which is the same age difference as between my two girls.
My family moved to the suburbs of Toronto from the West Island (Montreal) when I was eighteen, and I stayed behind for love, school, work, friends. I didn’t consider that at 10, my sister was entering her formative years, and frankly at the time, I probably wouldn’t have cared.
When I re-joined my family four years later, the kid sister I had left behind was gone, and in her place was an angsty, funny, ironic-T-wearing, Pearl-Jam-singing fourteen-year-old. I enjoyed getting to know her again.
My kids are currently 18 and 10. With my elder daughter is heading off to university in 3 short months, I can’t help but draw the parallel between them, and my sister and I at the same ages. No matter my fears about preserving their bond, I know this is their path, and will try not to interfere.
But… they don’t call me “helicopter mom” for nothing.