When Travis Blair was around thirteen years old, he and his four younger sisters were about to be separated—adopted out to different families. His father had died and his mother was left to raise and provide for five children on her own in a time where there were very few employment opportunities for women. Travis made the choice to do whatever it would take to keep his family together. He took on the job of taking care of his “little sisters” and worked at that job until this past Saturday morning. Travis was eighty-six. Six years ago Travis lost the first of his little sisters, Denie. This past November he lost his baby sister, Mabel. Then in February, he lost the oldest little sister, Wanda. There is one little sister now, Julia. Losing little sisters has been very, very hard on Travis. Sunday night the family gathered at Julia’s house to share stories about Travis and the sisters. The most notable aspect of these family gatherings has always been the constant (and loud) laughter of the women—the sisters and their daughters and granddaughters. It has often been compared to a henhouse full of cackling hens. Last February at Sister Wanda’s funeral, my husband, Macy, spoke of the henhouse analogy. He told of watching our chickens foraging—how the hens scratch the ground then back up to look for bugs and bits of food to eat, all the while making small conversational sounds. Our rooster is always nearby, watching over the hens, gathering them into a tighter group when they begin to scatter, showing them tasty morsels he finds, and wading in to break up any squabbles that erupt. Travis was just the same, always quietly nearby, watching over his sisters.The sisters are always out front in my mind, talking and laughing and going and doing, while Travis is always to one side, quietly watching and smiling. While there was still laughter at Julia’s house Sunday night, it was decidedly more subdued. It seems the party has moved to a new location. Travis knew this and chose to rejoin it Saturday morning. Meanwhile, the rest of us are regrouping and trying to find a way to keep our part of the party going here. We can do it, I know. They left enough love and laughter behind to keep us going, and we still have Sister Julia to lead us onward. SpringCreekArtsGuild@gmail.com