One of the benefits of being an older sister is being able to remember back to when younger siblings were born.
None was more special than that of my first sister. Prior to her arrival there were two brothers, a neighborhood full of boys with no girls, lots of uncles and few aunts.
I greatly anticipated her arrival and looked forward to days that would be less lonely. How insightful I was at the age of 4 1/2 years. How did I know that throughout life, here would be a companion to share life's joys and sorrows, to gripe to and rejoice with, to boss around . . . well, I digress.
I remember the need to keep my room clean so we could share a room. I remember then her betrayals in actually being the feminine sister who loved pink and dresses and even sweeping the floor with her little toy broom and dustpan.
I remember that there were positives to this, as well, I could pawn off my unwanted Barbie's and jewelry and dresses to a more than happy recipient. In return, I received countless glasses of lemonade and later ginger tea.
I remember a companion who was always ready to play elevator with our improvised closet elevator and later to play elevator with the functional one we built for our dollhouse. A compatriot who let me keep the light on late reading and provided solidarity for countless crazy school projects.
Today, we no longer share a room, but even when the world turns upside down, my sister still provides a receptive ear that never finds my ideas too zany or boring to listen to. My sister takes it all on with travels all over the planet and then reports back about what it is like to live in Manhatten, to Salsa dance in Buenos Aires, to go to China town in San Francisco, to eat Bread in Paris and to meet the Pope in Vatican City.
I hope there are many more happy celebrations of her day.
0 comments:
Post a Comment