My daughters, Charlotte and Sarah. We’re enjoying a hot summer day in Beacon Hill Park
in Victoria. It’s 2006 and the girls are 11 and seven, respectively.
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This water park seems to be custom built for Charlotte, who has special needs and must
spend most of her time sitting in a wheelchair. Certain areas of the pool are only inches
deep, yet it still manages to keep both girls cool and entertained. We’ve picked up a picnic 
unch at McDonald’s. The kids meals are a favorite, mostly because of the toy that comes
with the food. (Basically, the food is an afterthought.) The prizes du jour are small plastic
Barbies, promoting a new, must-see Barbie film. Sarah and Charlotte manage to while
away several hours drowning Barbie in the pool. Money well spent! The other item is a
flip-flop that someone has abandoned. It’s become a certified Barbie flotation device,
or BFD, for you sailors.
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Watching Charlotte and Sarah play together is heartwarming. Typically, it’s difficult for
Charlotte to find playmates, because most kids want to run around. Charlotte simply can’t.
Sarah has grown up with this and knows that, when they play, she will facilitate for her
sister. She works out a way to have fun in the process.
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Most children Sarah’s age don’t know the term “siblings,” and few would use it in reference
to their sister. Sarah attends terrific “Sibshops,” put on by the Sibling Support Project,
to help her understand her feelings, and the differences between ours and a typical family.
Charlotte’s needs require a lot of time and attention, especially when it comes to medical
complications. It’s something Sarah has to accept. She does this with remarkable patience
and understanding.
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They are sisters, which comes with the usual ups and downs, but they’re best friends, too.
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Mark Heine