Being the Three Sisters

There are many variations on the Aboriginal legend. In all versions, there were three sisters, named Meehni, Wimlah and Gunneedoo, members of the Katoomba tribe living in the Blue Mountains.

The first version says that their father, Tyawan, possessed a magic shinbone that transformed him into a lyrebird. He changed forms when he went hunting and left his girls atop the cliff to keep them safe from Bunyip. ONe day, Menhi knocked over a rock, waking Bunyip, who came after the sisters. In an act of desperation, Tyawan turned his daugthers into rocks. In the chase, Tyawan dropped his shinbone  and the sisters were transformed forever.

In a more Romeo and Juliet version of the legend, the sisters fell in love with brothers from a rival tribe, which forbade them from being together. The brothers fought a battle for their loves. A local witch doctor tried to help by turning the sisters to stone to keep them safe. But the doctor died in the battle, making the spell irreversible.

I love this story because I am one of Three Sisters. I carry them with me in my heart and even on my ankle, where I sport a three-leaf clover tattoo to represent us. We are all very different, but share the quality of independence.

I stood overlooking the three majestic pillars, wishing my sisters could see it with me. Rachel, the baby of the family, gets genuinely excited about travel. We used to bond over meat pies at the Australian Bakery in Marietta. Sammi, on the other hand,  is more of a homebody, but loves the outdoors. She told me to go on a hike and I didn’t let her down. I bit the bullet, coping with my fear of heights, to climb down between the sisters. The view was worth it and I hope I can bring back my sisters one day.