Today I am grateful for time with my sister, Judy. She left this morning at o’ dark-thirty and when we hugged I said, “We didn’t kill each other!” She agreed and we laughed.
It wasn’t always this way, as anyone with a sibling will know. We are very, very different people. Most siblings are. Very few pad through life agreeing completely with every choice, decision, political view, comment of their siblings. That’s what makes families interesting. . .and challenging.
But no one else but your sibling shares your whole history. They remember that you stabbed them with a protractor when you threw it across your shared bedroom (“Don’t tell mom!”), but they also remember that you were there when their heart was broken for the first time and offered to beat the crap out of the loser boy. They hate you when you wear their new sweater and spill orange soda on it as a kid, but drag your weary-old-lady-ass all over the world and buy lunch when you need help shopping for a dress.
The arguments we endured, the snappy comments, evil looks, wild-eyed-fights we have been through make it possible for the unbelievably hysterical belly-laughs we now share. My sister and I can still find the center point of any wall because as kids my mom would put the last piece of cake in front of one of us and hand us a knife, saying, “Whoever cuts has to let the other choose the first piece.” Equality begins with cake. We’d have sooner been boiled in oil than have the other get one crumb more!
Now we’re both old and I am grateful she is in my life and for the wonderful visit we had when she was here. Oh I still have my eye on her when she portions out the cake. I’m not stupid! She is, after all, still my sister!