I Have a Sister
Up until this point in my blogging career I’ve really only mentioned my sister in passing, which was brought to my attention when she recently texted me something along the lines of UGH WHY AM I NEVER IN YOUR BLOG POSTS. So I thought I’d take this time to tell you a little bit about my darling, talented, funny, compassionate, pain-in-the-ass sister, with whom I am now madly in love with.
But I’ll get to the madly in love part a little later. Because before around 2008, my little sister was the Devil.
Sarah was the kind of younger sister who would hit me and then put herself in timeout. (She was three and I was six.) I was the kind of older sister who cried when Sarah bit me, but refused to retaliate because even at a young age I understood the importance of nonviolent conflict resolution. (My mom has often referred to this affinity for wisdom and understanding as “being a wuss,” which I have chosen to respectfully ignore.) Sarah used to make fun of me, jump on me, swear at me, and imitate me until I thought my brain would fall out of my own head. To be fair, I was an even nerdier child than I am a college student, so Sarah had a lot of good material to work with. But the sisterhood was pretty rocky there for a decade or so.
To say I never retaliated would be a bit of a lie. I sang at the top of my lungs a lot, especially when Sarah was around. (My mom particularly enjoyed this phase.) My nerdiness got me some stellar grades, and the older-sister-academic-legacy is a surprisingly powerful weapon in the sibling game. One time I got so fed up with her bullying, I stuck my foot out and pushed her onto the hardwood floor, hard. My parents punished me, but revealed years later that this was actually a pretty proud moment for them (look at the wuss! she’s standing up for herself!).
Then sometime around my sophomore year in high school, it dawned on me that Sarah was actually kind of cool. She had turned twelve and no longer tried to bite me. She was tall and gawky and funny and good at sports, and she could sing. Boy, could she sing–way better than I ever did when I belted in the backseat of the car to drive her crazy. That girl had a voice like a chorus of baby angels.
Smack dab in the middle of our awkward phases, we had a photo shoot. Sarah’s going to kill me but I really think these pictures are important to your understanding of us as humans.
So I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but the Devil and I became friends. Best friends, actually. And the Devil wasn’t the Devil anymore– she had been replaced by this really witty and wonderful person who shared my DNA. I suppose that person had been there all along, I’d just been too distracted by the abuse/assault to see her.
After I went to college, Sarah and I went from best friends to soul mates. (It’s a lot easier to be someone’s soul mate when that someone is too far away to clog your shower with her hair.) I call her to tell her about my day. She consistently sends me this snapchat.
She and Jules get along well enough I guess.
And now, I’ve put her in a blog post.
So Sar, this one’s for you. Never stop doing that thing with your hip.