I can’t exactly tell you how the story begins. There are a lot of things missing from this story, but I have to remember it was never their fault. They were only kids, with no voices other than the adults around them. They didn’t make the choice to be separated for all those years. To be kept in the dark about each other, always wondering why. Sisters aren’t meant to spend their childhood apart from each other.

The little one, with her darker hair and mischievous ways, was more fortunate. No memories to be saddened or comforted by, just the emptiness of knowing she should be around. That her big sister was nowhere near, and the confusion and hurt grew as she did.

But it was never their fault.

The older one, with blonde hair, who took her role as big sister to heart, was unfortunate in other ways. She had the memories, and the knowledge of why they weren’t together. The hurt and confusion were just as strong for her, if not more. She was out there, but she couldn’t reach her little sister.

But it was never their fault.

They would eventually find their way back to each other, but it would take a tragedy for it to happen.

If this sounds like a very dramatic re-telling of Frozen, you’re not that far off. A movie of two sisters who have some interaction as kids, and then are forced to spend their lives apart, it quickly became loved by all. But as loved as it was by many, I connected deeply with it on a personal level. It became an obsession. When I watched Anna, I saw myself. And when I watched Elsa, that was my sister. And when I watched what they lived through as kids, all the failed attempts to reunite with each other because of forces beyond their control, I was remembering every single time I wished my big sister was around. The first time I watched Frozen, I remember thinking, Holy shit. This is my life. This is what we went through. This is us. Anna is clumsy, speaks her mind, and is ready for any kind of adventure. That’s exactly me. Elsa is a little more reserved, and puts others before herself, but is just as easily pulled into the fun. That’s exactly Allison. I kept watching it over and over again, finding more similarities each time. I told my sister to watch it, that it was full of kismet. Ever since we came back into each other’s lives, we’ve been surrounded by so much fate. I hold on to each one like it’s going to disappear. Frozen was one of the first, and will always be special.

The first time I went to visit my sister, we all went to a hockey game. A preview was playing continuously, along with hockey pucks going around, promoting a particular movie. It was a bit over the top, and eventually became annoying. Months later, I watched Frozen after a friend said it was really good. After seeing it, I thought back to that night at the hockey game. I found the puck my nephew had given me, and there was Olaf on one side, and Frozen printed on the other.

My sister and I had a lot of catching up to do, yet it felt like we didn’t have any lost time. There was no denying we were sisters. We couldn’t have been more alike if we were actually raised together. I’ve read stories of twins separated at birth who go on to live eerily similar lives. That was us, despite the twelve-year difference in our ages.

Anyone who has grown up separated from their siblings can understand the significant life experiences we’ve missed. Special occasions sisters are meant to share: first kisses and first boyfriends, prom, weddings, and kids. I missed out on knowing my nieces and nephew until they were older. We’ve all missed out on memories that get taken for granted. I can’t let moments that should be so natural pass without acknowledging them. I know how easy it is to lose everything. I learned that lesson the hard way, and it has changed me forever, and changed all my future relationships with anyone. Nothing is insignificant anymore.

The person that connects my siblings and I together is the very person that kept my brothers and I separated from our sister. My sister is from our dad’s first marriage. Eleven years later, after my mama married our father, my older brother was born. I came the following year, and then my younger brother the next year. My sister spent eleven years as an only child, and then became a big sister in three consecutive years. It wouldn’t be long before she was back to being an only child, unable to fulfill that role of big sister. A role that she takes seriously, and I would eventually get to have in my life, and at a time I really needed it.

Our dad was in the Vietnam War. Unless you’ve had experience with a wounded soldier who spent time in the middle of a war, you don’t know how just those six words can explain our entire lives, until the day our father died. He was a different father to my sister than he was to my brothers and I, but in the end, nobody won. He was an absentee father who didn’t even attempt to keep in touch with one of his children. He was abusive and unpredictable towards his other children, his actions a result of his addiction to pain killers. What made all of this even more frustrating was the kind of father he was when he wasn’t high on pills. Every time he turned to those pills instead of the help available to soldiers, it erased the good father he could be. The older we got, the worse he was in dealing with his PTSD. I wish I could say he came to his senses, that we were able to intervene and repair relationships with him. After his death, I was sure my mama would grab on to a new life that didn’t involve a daily game of “What kind of mood is dad in today?” Instead, she died six months to the hour after him, leaving me with questions I will never have answers to, questions that still burn inside of me almost nine years later. He treated her like shit, yet she couldn’t seem to get over his death. I felt betrayed in a way, and it left me feeling more alone in this world than I thought possible. She was the only person that could understand me, better than I could understand myself. In my moments of doubt and uncertainty, she always knew what to say to me. She had insights I didn’t know about myself, and she gave them to me like gifts. At twenty-three, I was beginning to need those gifts more than ever, but they disappeared when she did.

My sister came back into my life when I needed her the most. We reconnected about a year after my mama died. I feel like it was another gift from my mama, an apology from our dad. Nothing will ever make up for those lost years, but I wouldn’t trade what we have now for anything. We talk every day, and visit when we can. We share endless similarities, including reading. We’ll start a book and read it together, making us feel closer than two states away. And what started as a way for us to do something together has brought something magical. I have always loved when I find a connection to something in a book. But when Allison and I started reading these books, there was always a significant piece of fate for us to find within these stories. It seemed like every time we read a book, kismet was woven into these words and characters, bringing us closer each time. Every book that held that magic was like finding hidden treasure, and it always seemed to be the very book one of us needed at that moment. We both read books for the same reason-to escape reality. Not because our reality was always bad, but because of what was inside those books.

It didn’t take long for kismet to be in every part of our lives. We text each other at the same time, and make the same comments when we’re watching our favorite t.v. shows together. We have the same O.C.D. when it comes to cleaning. We were often watching the same t.v. shows growing up. We have the same favorite movies. We both drive white Fords, and have the same birth mark on the inside of our right legs. And just like all sisters do, we have our own language, except we use it when we’re texting, and nobody but us can understand our conversations. Her middle child, like my brother’s oldest child, are my mini-me’s in actions and attitude. Having the familiarity of family surrounding me has helped fill the hole in my life after losing my parents, and the life I once knew.

Books have always been special to me. And each book my sister and I read that is filled with kismet, bridges that gap we had in between us, not that it was a very big one. It was put there by our father, but some bonds that sisters share can truly overcome everything. I used to be so jealous of girls that had sisters. Now, I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t have a sister. I wouldn’t trade my big sis for anything. I miss my mama every single day, but I wholeheartedly believe that her last gift to me was bringing my sister back into my life. I can tell my sister anything, and despite the fact that we didn’t know each other for a couple decades, she knows me because she’s my big sister. I know what it feels like to have that one person you trust with all your deepest fears, secrets, and dreams disappear from your life. But then I was given the only other person in this world that could fill those shoes. My mama can never be replaced, but neither can my big sister. The only thing she replaced was the emptiness where she belonged after all those years.

The bond that Anna and Elsa had as kids was special. And, in the short amount of time we had together, the bond between my sister and I is what made the decades we spent apart disappear the second we were reunited. Though I don’t remember it, I could feel that connection my entire life. My greatest wish was finally granted, and it has been better than I ever imagined.

Even though we were getting through life without each other, nothing compares to how life is now that we have each other again. It’s easy to be angry about those lost memories, but we’re too busy making new ones.

We just have to remember that our lost time was never our fault.