Ode To My Sister

Today is a glorious day; it's my sister's birthday.

A few months ago I was getting my oil changed, and I read an article about siblings in one of the worn out magazines on the table near my seat. I found it insightful. I can't remember the article's title exactly, but it was in People or Good Housekeeping -- a magazine like that. Its basic premise was that the relationship people have with their siblings is the most formative, vital, and long-lasting connection they have. I remember thinking. Yep. So true.

Reading it raised my awareness about how important my siblings have been in my life. I need them, probably more than they know. I wouldn't be me without them, not to mention the fact that they understand me in a way other people just can't. We do have the same parents and most of the same childhood experiences after all.

All I have to do is look at one of them and say, "Cheesebooger." They know what that means and exactly what I'm talking about. (Dad's weird pronunciation. Imagine being about six and your dad asks for "six cheeseboogers" at McDonald's. Wouldn't that be hilarious to you?)

Now that we're adults I've become especially sentimental about my brothers and sister. I wrote one of my brothers a poem (I'm serious), and when my sister got married last year, I cried like someone was breaking my arm. In fact, I'm pretty sure a lot of other people who normally cry at weddings didn't cry because they were too busy worried about how hard I was crying.

 

Of course when I feel strongly about something, I write about it. A few years ago I wrote an edition of family stories for my siblings for Christmas. It made a good gift, but simply writing it was a lot of fun. One of the stories I wrote was about the day my sister was born. Here's a quote:

I was ecstatic. All those months of rubbing mom's belly an saying, "I know you're going to be a girl. I know you're going to be a girl," finally paid off. I had the little sister I'd always dreamed of. In my mind, we were already sharing secrets and playing dress up. [...] I had tried to imagine what she would look like. I wanted to run screaming to her bassinet, but I walked quietly; she was asleep. I peeked over the edge at her little pink face. She was more beautiful than I had imagined. I got exactly what I wanted -- a little sister.
 

All those things are just as true today if not more so. My sister is beautiful, tough, feisty, funny, and amazing. She has the most tender heart and the best collection of freckles in the world.  I love her laugh; I can imagine the sound sitting here writing about it.  She remains one of the best gifts God has ever given me because learning how to be her sister has taught me how to be a better version of myself.

So happy birthday, Sis. I love you more than I can ever say.