My middle child’s name means “night.”

My youngest child’s name means “ray of sunshine.”

They are literally day and night, these two heads buried deep in conversation as one leads the other gently across the field outside the school, heading for the woods they explore together every day.

One girl is a tomboy. She prefers her brother’s hand-me-downs; no pink nor sparkle nor frill will grace her athletic body. She’s a generous and kind care-giver, but also moody and sometimes sneaky. She’s the first to give her treat or stuffed animal or favourite pair of socks to her brother and sister, if they want it. She’s the first to complain, bitterly, if a distracted soccer team member lets a goal in. You have to work to earn her trust, but once you have it, she’s yours forever. There’s nothing she hates more than being the centre of attention.

One girl is a social butterfly. She likes dresses, Barbies, princesses. She can’t be hurried because there’s so much of life to explore, to dream about, to wonder at. She’s a little selfish and prone to tantrums, but she’s open and warm in her affections. Within seconds, you’re her best friend, but there are so many people to know that she might flitter off to someone new soon. Let her joy and happiness drench you while you can. All the world’s her stage, and all of us her audience.

Different in every way. Yet the same, because they were both built by us, both shaped from the same raw material.

Sisters, and best friends. Walking hand in hand through the woods, through the park, through life.