Meanwhile, my older sister was busy doing puzzles, dreaming about unicorns and werewolfs, and generally just living in a magical placed filled with fairies and Orks and dancing around in her Wonder Woman underoos.
|Also, don't think we were|
restricted to just Wonder Woman.
We were multi-faceted awesome.
And while at times we couldn't be more different to those peering in from the outside, my best friend sat right down there with me in the basement doing her puzzles while I busily flitted around her, pretending to wait tables while wearing my mom's high heels.
But she was always thinking. She thought up ways to beat the system and spy on Santa Claus and convinced me to jump from the highest stair just as my mom or dad was walking by so that I got caught and was all like "What? I know, Becky totally takes all of these risks for no apparent reason. Super weird."
However, if I'm being honest, it must be said that she was also the sister who told me I was adopted, and the only reason I was even in the family at all was because she totally chose me and mom and dad definitely didn't. And while it explained my unusual flare for all things Madonna and glitter, inexplicably unrecognized by the rest of my kin, I just kept looking at my parent's thinking "But they obviously must've wanted me. I mean, duh...right?"
And then I spent way longer than a normal human should re-living fake memories via Little Orphan Annie and baring my sold during "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow."
But whatever, I obviously got past that and never, ever think about it anymore.
Anyway, as we got older and developed our own lives, moving hundreds of miles away from each other and spending scant days of the summer and winter catching up on all life threw at us that year, I began realizing that there are some bonds that just can't be broken by distance, or time, or the randomness of life. She knows my facial ticks, my raised eyebrows, and shares the understanding of dynamics only families know about one another. It's something you just can't measure.
She was one of the loudest voices encouraging me to start this blog, and has been one of its biggest champions ever since. She's the sister who can look at her "Ice Loves Coco"-watching, celebrity tracking, sports-loving, meat-eating sister and see someone she actually calls a friend. I mean, granted, our paths might've never crossed were it not for our DNA, but it's a notion she embraces and, through some yoga/meditation/Ohmm-ing sort of way that I don't understand, finds the true beauty and love in that. And in a bunch of other stuff that I don't really understand because I've never really been able to sit through a 30 minute yoga session without getting anxiety over the fact that I don't know where my core is and I drank too much coffee that morning.
But I digress.
The moral of this story is simple: It's my sister's birthday today, and while she doesn't tend to make a spectacle of herself on this day, I'm pretty sure that's simply because she has a sister that she knows will totally do it for her.