My Sister

When I was a kid I idealized my sister. Wherever she went, I wanted to go. Whatever she wore, I wanted to wear. She was cool. She was always doing exciting things like moving the furniture in our room so it looked different. I remember coming home from school and her announcing that it was time for a change. We would run upstairs and move our beds and our dressers and laugh and listen to music. She was 14, I was 7, but I didn't really notice.

Over the years we had our spats. At 8 I was sure that she was trying to steal my best-friend Whitney when she spent the night. Julie had offered to do our hair and makeup and we were feeling pretty grown up in aqua eyeliner and mint green shadow. Julie had curled my bangs and was going to seal them into place with copious amounts of hair spray (remember the world was still reeling with the 80's influence) when instead she sprayed me directly in the eyes. I screamed, eyes watering while blue and green makeup streamed down my face, that she was trying to steal my best friend. Julie and I laugh now that I would have thought that, but at the time I wondered...

When I was 9 Julie would play Chicago songs while we laid in bed in the thick sweltering summer heat. The fan would hum softly in the background and the headlights of cars would shine through the blinds and onto our ceiling making lines that moved across the ceiling and down the walls. I remember thinking this was the life. Sometimes she would even tell me stories, or about boys she liked or we would tell jokes and laugh until she stopped answering me and I knew she was pretending to be asleep.

At ten (for me) Julie had gotten her own room and I moved across the hall. My room was scary, and I hated being alone. I wanted to share the room with her forever and sometimes I would sneak into the room and sleep on her floor. By this time Julie (I'm sure) was ready for her own room, but I wasn't. I would sneak slowly into the room and she would tell me "Holly, I can see you. Go back to bed." I would ignore her like a dog who thinks he is being sneaky, and nestle myself on the floor next to her just glad to be there again.

When I turned 11 Julie left for college. When we dropped her off I didn't know what to do with myself. My very best friend, the one who I could confide in, who let me tag along, who told me I was beautiful (even when I was VERY much not and looked more like Charlie Brown than little girl) and got mad at people for hurting my feelings, was moving on. And it killed me. I wrote in my school journal (very dramatically of course):

"words can't describe how I felt when my sister left for college. I felt as though I was trapped and all alone in a mall because malls are always crowded and when Julie left it seemed as though everybody left. This is a moment there are no words to comfort, it's a time when words run dry. "

14 years later I still love and miss my sister. It kills me that she lives so far away and that I have to hop a plane instead of into my car, or a fence to visit her. Since it's Valentines Day month, I just wanted to write this blog to tell her how much I love her and how glad I am she's my sister.