I am one of three daughters. The middle sister. Grown now, the years don’t separate us as much as they did when we were young, though distance and experiences still conspire to keep us apart. Still, the three of us enjoy getting together now as adults – most recently in balmy Queensland, to see my niece (my eldest sister’s daughter), who is also the middle sister of three, get married. I do have a photo of us together, but I’m not going to show you that.
When I was at primary school, I was one of three close friends. At secondary school, I was in another group of three. Then we went to university, and one of that first (primary school) group of three, and one of that second group of three, made up another threesome with me. When I was on my student exchange in Bangkok, there were three AFSers at the same school, and we became very close. I’ve gone in and out of groups of three since. Clearly, I feel very comfortable with this dynamic.
About 15 years ago, my younger sister spent a few years living in my city. For part of that time she lived with us, and she, my husband and I would sit quietly at the breakfast table in the morning, eating breakfast and reading our books, before we had to head off to work. We made a good trio. At the time my sister had travelled widely throughout New Zealand, but had never been overseas. We concocted a plan. A good friend of mine was living and working in Singapore. We would go and see her. And we did, with one day in Sydney on the way. I liked that Sydney was the first city outside New Zealand that she saw, as it was the first I had seen too. The harbour, the famous bridge, and the more famous Opera House are a sight to behold.
We got to Singapore and spent several days exploring this city state together when C was at work, and at night having drinks and dinner somewhere exotic. I’ll never forget going to Little India for dinner on a Sunday, seeing all the expatriate workers from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh thronging together on their one day off, happy and relaxed. It was most moving seeing some getting help from their friends reading their letters from home. Raffles and a Singapore Sling, the Night Safari, and a visit to the Satay Club, were of course compulsory parts of the visit.
Our Thai sister – the young woman who had spent a year living with my family after my own trip to Thailand two years earlier – was now also living in Singapore with her husband and new baby. Y and I met up with her, three sisters together once again, after many years apart.
On the weekend, C took us shopping. By this stage, she knew all the best haunts to go to, and we found a shop packed full of artworks that appealed. In particular, we were drawn to some paintings of three women. They were all very similar but different, and we decided we should each buy a painting to remember our time together. Mine was red and purple – a favourite colour combination – and C’s and Y’s were both differing shades of green. I love visiting their houses now – 15 years later – to see their paintings on the wall, and remember that time together.
A Separate Life 