Why is my sister so special? She’s the tormenter of childhood. Older, wiser; she colludes with my brother to tease me. Yet I admire her still.
The relationship started off tentatively. The baby of the family steals attention and half of the bedroom. Crying, messy, and stubborn. Who could love this new kid?
Dresses, sweaters, and shoes weren’t safe. Stains appeared, the silk shirt shrank (oops!), rips were common. I regret losing her favorite belt to this day. And yet she loved me still.
She made the best of my messes. She found ways to embrace my immaturity. Ride the horse sitting backwards! Play Kick-The-Can One. More. Time. Sing Sunshine On My Shoulders loudly, with feeling.
And always, always hit the pool. Marco Polo, Monkey in the Middle, Synchronized Swimming. Childhood would have been very different without the water. Sisters should be fish together.
College happens. Life changes are startling. What do you mean you’re getting married? Won’t we ever live together again? That escalated quickly.
The mark is made. The scars are permanent. The damage is done. No one will impact me like she. How could they? But these marks are my badge of honor.
I have been molded, shaped, cast by a sister. Not just any sister, but the one made especially for me. God knew what he was doing in giving me her. She loves me, ridiculousness and all.
THAT is why she is special.
I love you Amy.