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Three Sisters Wilderness, Oregon. When it was still dark, they stood against the sky, proud and solid. Their presence is a reassurring anchor on a misty sea. If they fear anything, they don't let it show. They are the horizon of the world, as strong as stone, as fragile as a snowflake. And when light beams through the lodgepole pines to kiss the rising steam of the lake, their faces look down on the aspect of it all. Faces chiseled in stone and ice, somehow stern and somehow soft, they are ageless. When people named mountains, they named these the Three Sisters... Faith, Hope and Charity. I have three sisters, two by blood and one by Raksha Bandhan (Rakhi). Their faces are chiseled inside, where I can close my eyes and conjure them when I wish. All three possess those qualities, all three could wear these names. But they do not. They are Peg, Patti, and Renetta, and this one is for them.
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