My sister is celebrating her birthday today, while she was born three years before me, I am not entirely sure which one this is. When she graduated from college after taking quite a few years off before deciding that she loved academia and attending St John's College, a school so cerebral that I couldn't even imagine, she declared that she was going to be 25 again (or maybe it was a different age). However, I am not sure if she continued aging from there or has reverted back to her calendar age. But really it doesn't matter. Today is her day and this blog entry is for her.
My sister is the greatest because:
- She always included me. When we were kids she was playing with some of her friends and we were making a cassette tape (remember those) recording of a haunted house adventure. Instead of shooing me away she let me take part when they got to the "Room of Dentures", instead of making scared screams, I ask innocently (on tape) "what are dentures?"
- She would make me feel better about my lack of talent at drawing by telling me she had 3 more years practice and that I would be just as good as she was if I kept practicing.
- She liked to hang around me and my friends.
- She thinks that I am cool.
- She had the courage to leave the course of expectation (college, graduate school, job) and move to 15 acres of land in the middle of no where and start buying domesticated animals.
- She is not a failed gardener (like someone I know).
- She is a great mother to two beautiful girls.
- I was enough family to prevent homesickness. When I was 7 and my sister was ten, she went to sleep away camp for 4 weeks. She loved camp and wanted to stay for the second 3 week session, but was terribly homesick. Instead of coming home she convinced my parents (and the camp who had an age limit of 8 and above), that everything would be great if they could just send me to camp. It worked out great and we enjoyed the three week camp session.
- She understands the need to "look it up" when we discover something we don't know.
- She is always looking out for me. When She was three, she brought home the chicken pox from her nursery school. She shared them with me freely. I was not even a year old yet and in the manner of sick babies got very quiet and helpless. Well, she knew that those pox itched as she had a whole slew of them herself. So, she scratched them for me. I have one scar from my run in with the chicken pox, it has faded and is difficult to see now but right by my belly button is a scar that demonstrates a sister's love.
Happy Birthday, Sis! I love you a ton and can't wait to see you on Sunday.