The above is the text message conversation I had with my dear younger sister the other day. I'm true to my word. Also, she is clearly in college since she texted me at midnight. And I'm clearly in grad school because I was still awake.
My sister was born when I was approximately four and a half years old. I really wanted to her to be named Mary, and begged my parents for that. The reason: I thought you had to be named Mary to get married. I apparently didn't know how to spell yet; in my mind they were the same word. Also, I was looking out for you, sister. I knew that since I was named Carolyn Kate, I was going to be single forever and ever, and it would be against the law for me to get married. But I wanted you to at least have that choice. It never crossed my precious four year old brain that my mom was not named Mary, but she was married. Whatever.
But anyway, having a younger sibling was life-changing. We were always really different. We never even looked alike. When we were little, I was blonde, with straight hair, and had blue eyes. She had dark and curly hair, hazel eyes, and was covered in freckles.
My sister is WAY more adorable than this picture. She has freckles, not chicken pox. And her hair does not look weird. And she's cute as a button. And totally beautiful. And just way more lovely than this. I'm not an artist.
My strengths were often her weaknesses, and her strengths were often my weaknesses. For example, she has always been extremely crafty and creative. Me, on the other hand... well, y'all are witnesses to my artistic capabilities. She's on another level.
But the point is, we had different personalities growing up. It often led to us bickering and quarreling, competing with each other. We did love each other, very much. Even though we were extremely competitive with each other, we were a team. For instance, I didn't like broccoli, but my sister did. It really tastes okay, but what kind of kid likes broccoli? So we would wait until our parents weren't looking, and then she would take half the broccoli off of my plate and give me something else from her plate. Keeping it cool, just like sisters should. Also, I would like to ask for forgiveness for making my parents believe that I really did eat all that broccoli.
But the age difference was difficult at times. We never really shared a stage in life until she hit the later years of high school, and got past those horrible, angsty, awful early and mid-teenage years that we all have to experience before becoming regular human beings. But after that, we experienced something great.
We already loved each other. We were sisters. But then age truly cemented our friendship. We began to tell each other our secrets. She held my hand and gave me the sweetest of encouragements when I had a broken heart. I sat up with her at night and gave her advice about college. She confided in me about friendships and boys. I confided in her about my hopes. We grew closer together. Even our hair sensed the change, and now we have almost the same color of hair.
She is an amazing person, and I love her so much. I just want everyone to know what a lovely sister I have, and how thankful I am to have her.
Also, we have conversations like this.
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