sisters braiding


I have several sisters.  I’m not talking about our best girlfriends who we think of as ‘sisters’.  Because I don’t have any of those.

I’m talking about family.

I have :

  • one real, full sister (same mum and dad).
  • one half-sister (same mum, different dad).
  • another half-sister (same dad, different mum).
  • one ex-step-sister (from my mum’s second husband’s first marriage).  She’s only ‘ex’ because my mum is no longer married to her second husband.
  • one ex-step-sister (from my dad’s second wife’s first marriage).  She’s also ‘ex’ because my dad is no longer married to his second wife.

Got all that?

I have a favourite sister.  I think she knows who she is.

My favourite sister

We haven’t always had a good relationship, me and my favourite sister.  There were times when we didn’t speak to each other for years.  Whether the reasons were valid or not isn’t important.  I guess we needed some time away from each other to grow, to make our own mistakes without interference from each other.

We live on different sides of the world now, but when I go to Australia and spend time with her, it’s like we haven’t been apart.  We drink wine together and laugh, and cry (that’s mostly me), and tell stories and reminisce about the past and talk about the present and dream about the future.

All the things that sisters do.

We’re really good friends.


However when we were little, it was a different story.  Let me tell you about some of the times she traumatised me.

She told me many, many times, that I was adopted.  The earliest memory of this was when I was 9 or 10 years old, but it could have started before that.

Orange Hair

You see, I had red hair when I was little.  Orange, in fact.  Our mum had brown hair, our dad had brown/black hair, my favourite sister had brown hair, our brother had blond/brown hair.

And I had orange hair.

Of course I was adopted.

She told me so often that I started to believe it.  I mean, I had orange hair and nobody else in the family had orange hair.  My grandparents didn’t have orange hair.  My cousins didn’t have orange hair.  No aunts or uncles had orange hair.  Only me.  Therefore, there was only one explanation for it.

I was adopted.

Was I adopted?

But I told her that I didn’t believe her.  I asked our mum about it and asked her to show me my birth certificate.  She did.

My favourite sister told me that my birth certificate was a fake.  That our parents made a fake birth certificate for me so that I wouldn’t know that I was adopted.  I didn’t want to, but I believed her.

I was adopted.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being adopted, I understand that now.  But 40 years ago I was a kid, and it was a bit different then.  Adoption wasn’t as out in the open as it is now.  We didn’t have Madonna and Angelina back then.  Adoption was a secret and nobody talked about it.

I was adopted.

My favourite sister.

By the time I was 9 years old, I had already changed schools twice.  It was quite a traumatic day for me when I arrived at the 3rd school.  It was not only the 3rd school I’d been to ever, it was the 3rd school I’d been to that school year.  I remember crying in the principal’s office when our mum was enrolling me.

Let’s go back in time a little bit.


When I was quite small, my siblings created a nickname for me.  My memory is a bit hazy, but as I recall, one day my aunt called me a pretzel (I don’t know why), and my siblings (one or more of them, I can’t remember), said that I wasn’t a pretzel, I was a cheezel.

From that time on most of my family called me ‘Cheezel’.

When I started at my 3rd school, when I was 9, I didn’t want any of my new friends to know that I had a nickname.  I just wanted to be Cheryl.  Not Cheezel.  Please.

My favourite sister and I went to the same new school.  I asked her not to tell my new friends that I was called Cheezel.

She didn’t tell my new friends.  She told her new friends.

Who told my new friends.

Who laughed at me and called me Cheezel.



Our mum used to sew a lot.  She used to make curtains for the house, and clothes for us, and other things.  One day, she bought some material.  It was brown with orange and yellow flowers.  Yes, it was the 70s.  I guess the material was cheap because she bought enough to make not only a tablecloth, but also a skirt.  For me.

My favourite sister told everyone who would listen (ie. my school friends) that our mum made my skirt out of a table cloth.

Cheryl’s wearing a tablecloth.


When I was 9 we lived for a few months in a country town in the south west of Western Australia.  We had a big backyard, and at the end of our backyard was native bush.  Trees and shrubs and wildlife.  I don’t know who owned the land but it was like a playground for us.  We often used to play there.

One day, we had extended family visiting.  Family including several kids (mostly cousins).  All the adults were in the house and they told us kid to go and play outside.  As usual.

There was a tall pine tree in the bush behind our back yard.  My favourite sister climbed it right to the top.  All the other kids were standing around it watching her.  Admiring her.  How good she is at climbing tall trees.

So far so good.

Then she shouted at me.  Cheezel, help!  She was stuck up the tree.  She couldn’t get down.  Could I go and get the grownups to come and help her?  Hurry!  She was scared.  Please. Hurry!

I ran to the house get the grownups.

The grownups and me all hurried back to the tall pine tree.

There was nobody there.  My favourite sister had gone.  All the other kids had gone.  There was nobody stuck up the tree.  Gone.

Cheezel – the orange-headed loser.

~ Cheryl

Do you have a favourite sister?  Let me know all about her in your comments below.

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Author: Cheryl

I'm an Australian woman who is now living in a village in rural Bulgaria. I lived for 12 years in Moscow, Russian Federation, working as an English language teacher. My current loves are my husband and my vegetable garden.

19 thoughts on “Sisters”

  1. That orange hair!!! It runs in your family, obviously. Poor Adam had the reddest hair. Unfortunately us ladies would sell our first born child to achieve such a brilliant colour for our hair and yet as a small young boy growing up, it attracted the bullies. You cannot hide. You cannot run from the bullies that are jealous of your beautiful hair.


    1. Oh, yes, it runs in our family. My daughter had a darker version of red hair when she was young, and my grandson’s hair is orange! I understand only too well how kids can tease other kids about it, being on the receiving end as a child. I hated the colour of my hair until I was about 18, when an ‘old’ lady at the bus stop told me that my hair was such a beautiful colour and asked me if it was natural. I changed my attitude to it then and there and have embraced it ever since.


  2. A candid story of childhood. I won’t say I have a favourite in case she reads it and tells the other three. Being made to sing kumbya while having an ear twisted by said sister as you walk home … is probably one of the best ways i was tormented. Sent up apple trees to scrump while two of the lovely sisters released Ganders to get me and told Mum I was pinching the doctors apples. Maybe it is a sister thing ??. Thanks for nudging my memory.


    1. Hello Ellen! Thanks for your stories 🙂 Did you get Chinese burns too (when they twist the skin on your arm with their hands, one hand one way and the other hand the other way)? I also got tricked into swapping my very fashionable, favourite handbags for some crappy old second hand handbags by two of my sisters (my favourite was one of them). God, in how many ways were we tormented? And we love them still now 🙂 p.s thank God I was never made to sing Kumbya!! Thanks for sharing your memories here! xx


  3. I’m not sure she would have been my favourite sister! I only have two brothers and they’re more than enough for me – I have no concept of the idea of a sister and the dynamics that go with that. I do have an excellent sister-in-law and a lovely daughter and DIL so that helps make up for the missing bits! Where did you live when you were in the SW of WA?


    1. Haha! She wasn’t my favourite when we were kids, that’s for sure! The love started to flow a lot later 🙂 I lived in Mt Barker for a little bit when I was in primary school, then as an adult I lived in Albany for a couple of years. The rest of the time I was in Perth. Have a great week, Leanne, and thanks for visiting me again 🙂 xx


    1. Hi Debbie! Thank you for reading about my sister! It’s nice that you also have a favourite sister. I’ve just had a thought – have you asked your favourite sister who HER favourite sister is? I haven’t asked mine, but it could be fun to ask – or devastating – depending on her answer!! Thanks for visiting, hope you enjoy the rest of your week. 🙂


  4. I loved reading these little stories – it’s funny how your relationships with siblings can change over time. I have one sister and one brother, both older than me. My sister and I got on pretty well when we were little, then our teenage years happened. We got on ok in our 20s, but we always had our little arguments!


    1. Hello Kat, yeah, it’s interesting to look back at the little fights (and big ones) and realise that you’ve been best friends your whole lives, you just didn’t realise it! Thanks for visiting and commenting, I appreciate it! Have a great weekend! 🙂


  5. Cheryl, This article brought up a lot of memories for me. I had 3 older sisters. I was ‘tortured’ quite a bit by sister #3 and I don’t think she ever liked me as I took her place as the youngest girl. My oldest sister, who was my best friend, died at age 56 of COPD 13 years ago. I am close to one of my 2 brothers (one died of cancer 5 years ago). I was somewhat close to my 2nd sister until I became engaged to my husband 15 years ago. For some odd reason, she didn’t seem to like the idea that I was happy and was very passive/aggressive after that. I am cordial when I see my sisters but I am happy to not live anywhere near either of them any longer. I’m not into drama and since I’ve always been the “funny” sister, I took all the fun with me!


    1. Hi Rita, I replied earlier, but some technical problems meant I had to restore a backup, and now some comments and my answers have been lost. Just wanted to say how sorry I am that you lost your best friend, and that some people don’t want us to be happy, but that’s their problem, not ours! Thanks for visiting and commenting. 🙂 x


  6. Hi Cheryl, I have one sister but unfortunately we have not spoken for over 30 years. Life is like that sometimes and I’ve found that for me, having my Saturday Sisters who I run with and who are my closest friends bring me love and joy even though we don’t share the same blood. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on Sisters with us at #MLSTL and have a lovely week. xx


    1. Hi Sue, I already replied but had some technical problems, and had to restore a backup, and so lost some things in the process. I also have a sister I don’t communicate with, that’s life. So glad you have your Saturday Sisters to show you love and care. Family is not always blood, it’s worth remembering! Thank you once again! 🙂 xx


  7. My older two sisters probably had that type of relationship. My oldest sister was born just before WWII started and enjoyed all the privileges of a spoiled only child whose daddy went off to war. When the war was over, she got to enjoy time with her dad for only 9 months when her sister was born and stole the show. They did not have a great relationship from that day forward until well into their adult years when both were raising their own children. On the other hand, a decade later, my mother had three more children. Two boys and then me. I am lucky to have survived with only one cast, a few stitches, and one Nickle size burn hole in my arm.


    1. Hi Jennifer, I can totally relate to your two older sisters! It’s when we have children of our own that we realise who’s important and who’s not in our lives. So you’re the baby of the family, that can bring it’s own challenges! Sounds like you had some dramas, with your injuries! It’s nice to have brothers and sisters, though, isn’t it? I do feel for those ‘only children’, like my daughter, who didn’t have anyone to fight with when they were young! 🙂


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