Journal 127 To my Shister

When we were children.....
You kept your room perfectly neat (I didn't).
You catalogued all your possessions and knew where everything was, most times.
You organized your stuffed animals.
You were scared of a clown poster in your room. (I was scared of it too).
You hid behind the wall of the kitchen and jumped out at me to startle me.
You loved dancing lessons (I preferred art classes).
You excelled at speech arts.

When we were teenagers...
You posted pages from magazines on the walls of your room on exercises and actually did them.
We fought over the phone.
I gave you copies of my old projects in the annoying subjects like science. I typed your essays.
We broke the bathroom door of our parents house when one of us was in there too long.
I covered up for you when you weren't where you said you were.
One night you came home to find me crying in my room after reading Animal Dreams. I couldn't explain to you what had upset me so much.

When we were young adults....
We drove to Ohio for my twenty-first birthday, just the two of us. Life seemed so safe then.
We worked at the same restaurant, not always the same shifts, but we knew the other was there.
You used to stay in the spare room of my 2-bedroom apartment when I first moved out on my own.
You had your own key to all my apartments.
We never missed a birthday party or really any party, or the occasion to order Thai food just because.
You always reminded me men weren't the be-all and end-all of life.

We're in the thick of adulthood now...
I was the maid of honour at your wedding.
You've made me an aunt and a godmother to two.
I was beside you in a blue scarf in the courtroom that sad day. We did have an expensive lunch thanks to your charm.
I cat-sit your cat.
You brought me sushi and champagne and made me leave my apartment when I would have stayed home and been sad by myself.
You cried beside me at the bar over drinks when we knew our dad was really sick.
You were the only person I could say "I can't take much more of this" to.
I had to call you to tell you our dad had died. I can't tell you how hard it was for me to do that.
You were my witness at my wedding.

In forty minutes I will leave to see you to have dinner and wish you a happy thirty-seventh.
Your gift is all wrapped (you're going to love it).
It's a cold February night and I wouldn't leave my condo for anyone else but you.

Happy birthday shister.
I love you.