Shortly after my two older sisters came in from their day journey, it dawned on me that the three daughters and one mother were all in the same house together. It’s not a typical situation, us all being under one roof. Depending on any of our moods, you never know what could happen with all of us together in the same place.

We aren’t the easiest bunch to understand or to deal with, and no one would ever mistake us for a  “safe WASP family.” We argue, we annoy, we fight. We say horrible things to each other, then we kiss and make up. It isn’t always that quick, sometimes months go by before feuding parties speak. We’re better than we used to be.

Despite the reason for us all being there (not a celebration, one of us has become very, very sick), I felt a genuine family tie to these women. These are MY wolves, I love them and together we could probably conquer anything. I love my sisters and my mother deeply.  It isn’t often I feel that kind of raw power and strength.

We’ve been through some really hard times but in that very moment, I love each one of them most of all. They are my roots, we are the same. As we rally around in times of crisis, we forget the petty bullshit arguments that we usually poke each other with.

Having us all together like that can sometimes turn into a dog fight, each dog trying to fight their way to the alpha position with lots of gnawing and gnashing of teeth with threatening growls. We aren’t always together, mainly because one of us lives elsewhere, one of us is drowning in a life of pure chaos, and one spends a lot of time taking care of our mother.

Our mother is the mainstay. She’s always there, sitting in her chair surrounded by her “things”. Empty toilet paper rolls, empty plastic bags, endless mail waiting to be read and coupons ready to be clipped. Her ashtray, her cigarettes, her coffee, our dead dad’s shoes. Everything right within her reach, to guarantee she won’t have to put much effort in retrieving something she might need. She is an agoraphobic hoarder that chain smokes in her house.

If you are visiting, she’ll often put you work fetching her stuff. She can tell you in minute detail exactly where everything is and where to find it. I assume this from years of having our dad retrieve things for her. I often wonder how that man survived all those years with four very strong and sassy women.

I like to believe he’s with us, sometimes I wish more than anything that he was still physically with us. We probably drove that man to his death with all our crazy combined. He loved us, each and every one of us and he was patient and kind and loving and he was exactly where he wanted to be. With us.

It’s good for me to have a moment like this, to realize that despite the dangers of hanging around with wolves, I love them all deeply. They are my pack. It’s up to me to not stay too long after the carcass has been eaten.