I've been thinking of my sister a lot today. Thinking of us through our (albeit short) lives so far.
When she was born, I was a stubborn little kid who firmly believed (don't laugh!) that sisters could only ever have little brothers. So, my new baby sibling had to be a brother. You can imagine my dismay when I saw for myself she was a…well…she. (In her honour, though, by the time my brother came around, I wanted another sister sooo badly, and I was convinced that the opposite of what you wanted came true, so I professed to wanting a brother. And I got…a brother.)
We (my sister and I) fought all the time when we were (younger) kids. I remember a few games we played, though…the most memorable being spin-offs of her favourite movie, Land Before Time blahdeblah (I still hate those!) and our favourite TV show that we both could stand—Jungle Run. Man, I miss that show…!
I remember some of the really good times, for me anyway. Like when I took a school project that was due, and turned it into a story for my sister. It was a dino story (stupid movie influence…!) about the first snow ever. For a nine-year-old's writing, it was pretty decent. And then there were photos of the 'snow' happening…I wonder if we still have it somewhere.
Our, or rather, her early years at school were difficult for us. We fought more than not, and she caught on pretty quick to my 'race you to school so we're there sooner' tactics. (I was sooooo smart!)
Her friends, too—I've rarely liked any of them. That's a whole barrel of oil I'm not opening now! I finally like one of the few she's got now. I didn't like her five years ago, but she's grown into her own, and I really like her. She's good for 'my girl.' And I even have them both on Skype (which makes me feel like an ancient relic!)
I suppose we could analyze why I'm so focused on my sister, but I have a few theories. I've recently lost two of my other 'sisters' (another story for another, much later, day); I'm leaving the proverbial nest this year; and I've always felt very motherly towards her. When I wasn't stuffing grass down her clothes and splashing her with water, that is.
Now, though…she's growing up so fast. I remember clearly the day I first saw her—female parts and all—and now she's got pierced ears, school dances and even a potential boy. Not a boy, but a boy. Eeeeeeek!
What's next, graduation? University? A life of her own?!
Isn't that my part?
I honestly want to know when she grew up—she went on vacation this summer and came back taller, curvier, mature-er. Ish. It's all snowballed in the last year—hell, the last six months! Somehow, when I was preoccupied with my training bras, first tampon, and do I really want to eat meat…?, she grew up. And now I'll miss so much more—not only from her, but my baby brother, too.
Sometimes I want to hurry up and get out of here already…but then I think of all the things I'll miss, and I never want to leave.
Is this normal—did you feel the same? If not, what did you feel? Do you still feel that way? How long since you left the nest, and the other chicks, behind?
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