Birthdays and sisters

Happy 29th birthday to me! And I'm not one of those people who's turning, like, 34 and telling people, "I'm 29 and holding, durrr." I actually am 29 today.

I met Cari, the older of my two younger sisters, yesterday. I actually picked her out from far away because she was wearing a shirt that I also own: a gray, long-sleeve, men's thermal-knit sweater. Long-sleeve thermal in May in Memphis. ... I thought I was the only one who did things like that. So right off the bat, I knew we were going to have a lot in common.

The first words out of her mouth were, "Wow. You look like my mom." I laughed. She ordered a cup of coffee. We talked about our families and jobs and heritage and medical history. (Did I already mention that bipolar disorder runs in my biological family? Also breast cancer and heart disease. Woo-hoo.)

But we spent most of the time just connecting dots. Cari grew up attending the same church as my maternal grandparents. Her maternal grandfather and my paternal grandfather graduated from Navy school together. Her mother (well, technically, our mother, though I don't really think of it like that) also wanted to be a journalist/writer. Cari said she'd bring photos next time. And Cari's younger sister, Lynn, also wants to meet me, so maybe that will happen next time too.

And there were other nice-to-know things thrown in there, like how my name was Jolene because my father's name was Joel. That settles that (and makes a little more sense than naming me after the Dolly Parton song "Jolene," with which I have nothing in common).

I still feel a little thrown off by the whole family thing. It happened so fast and in conjunction with changing apartments in Charleston and moving to Memphis for three months this summer. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around all of it. I guess I've just got to handle things one day at a time, huh?