By Kristin Holtz, Shakopee
When I was in junior high, we didn’t have cell phones. We used landline telephones. You know, those clunky plastic things connected to the wall.
We had one house phone, and it wasn’t cordless. No, it was smack dab in the middle of the kitchen. The only privacy for conversations with girlfriends was stretching the cord as far as possible to sit on the wooden basement staircase. Even that didn’t provide much privacy from siblings’ eavesdropping ears.
My Little Sister Nokomis doesn’t have quite the same problem when it comes to girl talk; she carries her cell phone faithfully. After our last activity, she reported she had received 30-plus text messages in the two-hour hiatus. Her friends wanted to know where she was.
So what do she and her friends text about constantly? Oh, she doesn’t know. Anything, everything. I guess that’s not so different from when I was 12 and sitting on the basement stairs, clutching the phone to my ear and gabbing about boys, school, classmates, the future.
Girl talk – An art perfected as a teenager has kind of disappeared from my life, replaced instead with the more mundane aspects of life – paychecks, laundry, car repairs.
But being a Big Sister has reconnected me to the importance of girl talk. Listening to Nokomis talk about her biggest worries (the upcoming history test) and delights (a new pair of shoes) has reminded me that life is about more than bills and co-workers. It’s about being connected to someone and knowing someone is there who’ll listen.
That’s what being a Big Sister is all about: being there. It doesn’t matter what Nokomis and I talk about. It doesn’t even matter if we talk. It just matters that Nokomis knows she has me on speed dial if she ever needs me. And thankfully, neither of us has to sit on the basement stairs.