Thursday, November 18, 2010

I loved her first.

I have a sister and I love her desperately. 

Not because she is beautiful and funny.  Not because she is smart and talented.  Not because she is clean and organized.

I love her for very different reasons. 

Because she snorts when she laughs.

Because she knows every Friends episode by heart.  Every. Single. One.

Because when I was pregnant and scared she dropped everything and came to hold my hand.  

I love her because her birthday, May 13th, is celebrated for a month from May 1st until June 24th, the day before mine.

Because she had no eyebrows until she was 13, just the hint of a muscle that would furrow when she was mad.

Because she makes practical purchases and wears sensible shoes. 

Because she is everything that I am not.

I fancy myself a tortured artist, she is a practical pragmatist.

I fret over the color and consistency of the icing, she makes sure the cake arrives on time. 

I claim perfectionism as my reason for procrastinating the wedding program that I insisted on making for her friend, she attaches the tiny bows to the unfinished masterpiece on the plane as we fly out to the wedding.  

I am indecisive and apologetic, a people-pleaser with resentment issues, she is unapologetically sure of her decisions, clearly communicating what she expects and what she DOES NOT want. 

She sends cards with thoughtful messages, pre-purchased and stored in a Hallmark card holder. 
I call and tell you about the funny card I read, purchased but forget to send.

I can never find my phone.  She is the most skilled BlackBerry user on the planet.

She is responsibility.  I am whimsy.  She is organized, I am scattered.  She is schedules, I am misplaced to-do lists.

She is Vera Bradley, I am a Coach knock-off.  She is a Pandora bracelet, I am jewelery found on clearance at Kohls.

As much as we are different, we are the same.

Both educators, giving more to our jobs than our paycheck warrants.

Both devoted daughters, who would move Heaven and Earth for either of our parents.

Both loving spouses, understanding the shortcomings of our partners and learning to live with them, adoring them in spite of it, because of it. 

Both mildly neurotic, slightly controlling, overbooked, overworked, overwhelmed. 

She is my truest first love. 

I loved her first. 

I love her still. 

I love her always.


  1. I love you both and you made me cry :)

  2. Brought tears to my eyes. What a sweet letter to your sister. She will read this, right?

  3. yes....she will and has read this...I can't even find the words...

    I'm not anywhere near as articulate as my sister..but can only say....

    we're special...and nothing will ever change that

  4. are my two daughters (inside and out)!

  5. And totally inspired my own sibling post!!

  6. This made me cry. I love the bond you both have. And am quite jealous :) Love you!