Sisters-- Lots of Sisters

I grew up in Victoria, a smallish city in southeast Texas. I had only one sister who was 7 years older. We weren't close-- I annoyed her too much, and we are very different. Not just in looks but in demeanor, too. I always envied my girlfriends who had sisters with whom they had good relationships. I ached for a sister to speak my language, in which to see myself, and to share my history.

My parents separated (several times) and divorced when I was a little girl. I knew my father but he was a distant relative to me. We didn't see him much. Our grandparents lived with us in a two bedroom house on Fillmore Street. They raised us while our mom worked. This was the life I knew.

Fast forward to my 51st year on this planet. I'm happily married for several years and we have two children, two dogs, and three cats. My husband gives me a fun gift for Christmas--- a DNA test kit from

To make a really long story short, a few months later I discover that the man I thought was my father isn't my father. AND-- (most importantly!) I have sisters! Lots of sisters! And they're so much like me!

I made these brooches for them, with them in mind. They accepted me into their circle when they could have easily turned me away. I love them dearly.