Friday, May 14, 2010


I love my sister, Lauren. She’s six years younger than me. She’s gorgeous, opinionated, and knows how to take care of herself. We are so different. I’ve always been the quiet one, the people-pleaser, teacher’s pet. She was always the rebellious one, determined to get her way, the one with the devilish smile (she’s the evil looking one in the picture below, LOL). Yes, you’re welcome to make fun of the hair. We’ve heard it before. Did I mention that Lauren has the best hair in the world? I was always jealous of her hair.

I remember how annoying she was when we were growing up. She wanted to be everywhere I was. I wanted the exact opposite. She was so cute. So sassy. A sure firecracker. We had many heated arguments, we slapped each other around; we were the types of siblings that fight and claw our way to a loving, sisterly relationship.

We’ve both been through some terrible times already. We’ve both fiercely defended each other and taken care of each other during those times. I love knowing that, even when I’m at my worst, my sister will love me. I love knowing that, no matter where her life takes her or what joy and struggle may await her, I’ll love her as well.

I love knowing that she looks like mom, I look like dad, but people so often say, “Are you sisters?” I love it that, if she answers my phone, people can’t tell our voices apart. I have a picture of her that I kept on my desk when I worked in an office. I had to put her name on the picture because so many people kept asking if it was a picture of me (who would put a picture of themselves on their own desk?). I love that. I love all the little things that make her different, like the fact that she’s not crazy about pizza or chocolate. She adores animals. She’s broken her arm eleventy-flaven times. She has a crazy arm for softball and is an excellent writer. She can play the piano by ear. She can sing…she just won’t. ;o) She’s always supported me and been proud of me, even when it was she who needed the support.

I just got off the phone with her today and had this overwhelming need to talk about how much I love her. She works at a bank just five minutes from my house. Some days, she’ll come to the house to have lunch with me. Just about every day, she calls me during her lunch break. I love talking to her. I love knowing that we are fortunate enough to talk this often, to live in the same town, to be getting older together.

I know things will change eventually. She may decide she wants to live elsewhere, she may get married, who knows. But I will always love her dearly and look forward to seeing her face, hearing her voice, and experiencing the utter joy of having her as a sister.

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