I'm very close to my sisters. I want my 2 sons to experience the same, and be friends for life.

• I'm the mom of two boys, and I wanted them to be close.
• I've reminded them as they grew up that they should think of each other as friends.

"Your brother is a gift," I blurted out in exasperation as my boys, tweens at the time, tousled in the living room. The scuffle, most likely over a video game, included harsh words and a shove or two.

"Your brother is your forever friend. You will be connected your whole life to each other," I said.

Usually, their fights lasted only a short while, and they were back to being friends — playing with Legos, creating spy games, and making homemade movies, where my oldest "directed" his younger brother in videos that included props, costumes, and indoor and outdoor settings.

On this day, exhausted from the demands of solo parenting two boys, I reacted instead of thinking before I spoke. But the sentiment holds. I want them to be friends for life.

I encourage them to think of each other as friends

While not all siblings stay close as they get older, I have tried to set an expectation — or at least a goal — that they appreciate their bond and know they can depend on each other. Through the years, I've reminded them of this, encouraging them to think of each other as siblings and friends. We've often talked about being good listeners, feeling empathy for each other during disappointing times, and supporting each other in their separate activities.

Between my work and their school demands, their downtime together is spent watching TV, playing video games, and making crafts, their movies, or elaborate forts in the living room. They played together their whole young lives — one pushing the other in a toy tractor across the lawn or dancing together in the rain in the driveway — and slept in the same room for more than eight years.

I have a great relationship with my sisters

I, too, shared a bedroom with my middle sister, who's five years older than me. We watched reruns on a black-and-white TV (with no remote), played backgammon, read thick paperbacks in bed, and then argued about whose turn it was to get up and turn off the light. She drove us to the mall and occasionally allowed me to come along with her friends to the beach on summer afternoons. My other sister, who's nine years older, went off to college but an empty place mat remained at the kitchen table.

Growing up in the same house knits you together through shared history. Diverse personalities are linked by genetics and everyday life. You might not have picked them as your friends on the playground, but they are family. When dad was dying from heart failure and mom fought ovarian cancer, my sisters and I came together to cocoon them and coordinate their end-of-life care.

After my father and then my mother passed — within 13 months of each other — we worked out the after-death details and sifted through 46 years of belongings that filled our childhood home. There were some sad days, and we didn't always agree on what to keep or what to donate, but we showed up for each other. Lots of decisions were made, and we listened to each others' views and acquiesced when one felt strongly. I never had to shoulder the responsibility alone, and for this, I am grateful. My children, teens at the time, witnessed us navigating these times and offered support and frequent hugs.

As my sons grow, their outlooks on life and the future may differ. Yet it's my hope that childhood memories and experiences will give them strength to navigate life's challenges together in the years to come.

Lisa B. Samalonis writes from New Jersey. She is at work on a memoir, "Just Three," about single parenting.