the three sisters

You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your relatives.

Thank Buddha I couldn't choose my relatives; an indecisive Libra like me would have taken a whole lifetime to choose just one relative, debating whether a rich and generous uncle who happens to be a lousy serial gambler would be more beneficial than a beautiful and elegant first cousin once removed who lives up to her blond hair.  Instead, I got three aunts, my father's three sisters, who have turned out to be better than anyone I would have picked myself.

There are those uncles who love you and bring you the best Christmas present every year, for which you willingly sacrifice three hours of your life to sit through yet another devastatingly annoying dinner during which you listen to each relative talk in turn about his cheating boss, her gossipy neighbor, and their multi-talented children.  There are also the first cousins who live around the block from you who are the most suitable candidates to babysit your twin toddlers whom others have described as bratty but you know that the undeniable truth is that they aren't willing to recognize these incredible two-year-olds as anything other than geniuses.

And then there are my three aunts, three sisters whom I have looked forward to visiting every time I returned to Taiwan and who have never showered me with gifts but whose every advice, delivered with humorous anecdotes, and every gesture, given with the most comforting touch, tell me they care about me and want nothing more than my happiness and success.

Sadly, the second sister passed away last year, and the fractured trio's spirit has been wounded, but their humor and passion remain evident.

I am lucky to have had not one but three such people in my life (that's not counting the sisters' youngest brother).

How many do you have?