We are passing down the tradition

of the older sister buying the prom dress for the younger. It is a beautiful tradition of love and intensity of family relationship, as well as maternal overload :). I am grateful for the reminder of the tradition from my Jo. I almost forgot.
They went shopping for it minus their agoraphobe mother. Who hates the mall, at present, not for fear. Elder sister is spending a paycheck on the endeavor and the beauty of sisterly love is intensified while the maternal bond between I and my children is distancing for my work schedule doesn't allow the investment of my own time.
Time will tell what this umbilical cord cutting will mean in the future. If it means that I am remiss in my maternal duties, that is between myself and God. My children seem to forgive, if not understand. I am me and it is a "depression", sacrifices must be made and the girls have formed their own Walker sisterhood.



We have a joke, that, when we were children (Boddens), people could say whatever they wanted about mother, or grandmother and we were never maddened by these things. But, talk about sister and the lion arises from our breasts. So we (our brand of Walkers) say, you know how the children, in the old days, would say "Yo greasy granny!" We would just say, "Yep!" So when we argue for fun; the end of the argument is "Yo momma!" and we all say, "Yep!". Because I am the momma and I said so.
In our house, it is God, no higher, who we defend. You can say whatever in jest about others and we say, "Yep!" cause everyone is a sinner. Only God is perfect and altogether lovely. Respect of the utmost is to Him alone.
But just don't talk about my sista! :{ Yep!
We do try not to tear one another to shreds; it is only in fun that we rank on one another. :)

Amos and JO-Andy!

Were the reason that we joke about the love of sister, so much. We all remember the love of the fight that we purported in our household. It seems that we have put off fighting as we are grown now. But I do feel that the defending of the honor of sister is something to be passed on. This is how we are doing it with my pacifistic children. I can't take out the boxing gloves and teach them to defend eachother's honor with bloodshed. I have to lay in my bed and be doubled over on my day off and they rise to the challenge. I used to love the love of Amy and Joanne, that they were so inseparable that they had only one name between them Joamy or Amyjo, whichever you were calling. They were knit together through the trial of having us as big sisters and defended oneanother forever. Jo almost got put out of school for loving Amy so. I'll let her give me permission to infringe on that privacy copy of the story.