No, really, I do.
We may look retarded but we ain’t.
Who else would humor me by posing by a vintage truck? Spur-of-the-moment. In the middle of busy downtown. With no dragging her feet. And minimal primping, confident in herself.
Who else would help me fulfill a lifelong dream of dressing in scrubs and observing a surgery? I think I was more excited about the scrubs. “Oh, don’t I look official? Like I really belong? Do you think anyone might think I’m the nurse? Or maybe even the surgeon?”
Who else would give me the world’s best niece? And then be all cool and dye said-niece’s hair blue. And buy her rock-and-roll clothes?
What other sister’s actually kiss like we do? People in high school thought Nell and I were a lesbian couple because sometimes we’d kiss each other goodbye on the cheek after chatting at our lockers between classes. And, what other sisters sought each other out to talk between their classes?
Who else will still play dress up with me and take me to pink-trash balls?
Charlotte Bronte had it right: “The value of a sister’s affection: there’s nothing like it in this world.”
Amen, sister.
No comments:
Post a Comment