SISTER
4.25.07
I talked to my younger sister the other day. She always makes me laugh. She is the one who sent me those funky fuschia Morrocan slippers (as pictured in my post below) when I was in the hospital watching spaceships land outside my window and tossing pills out to the aliens.

When my sister and I were single, we used to talk 3-4 times a day. Then we got married and we talked a couple of times a week. Then we had children and now we're lucky to talk once a month. She has two beautiful kids; I have one. That's life.

There's a lot I can say about my sister. A few things for sure: She is a survivor, she carries the invisible scars of a horrible childhood tragedy and crime. She is perceptive, thoughtful, generous, and kind. She makes friends wherever she goes. She's not bipolar like me, although she struggled with depression during her last pregnancy. I was so worried that she would get post-partum depression the way I did. Fortunately, she weathered through it. I kept telling her that she shouldn't be afraid to go on medications; she said okay, but she never did. She's like that. She gave birth to her children with no epidural, no pain relief, nothing. She just takes the pain.

Growing up, I thought she was an irritant, something that got in my way. Then one day when I was about 13, my father took me aside and told me that my sister just wanted to be with me, to learn from me, to be like me. It was like this catharsis: I wept, I felt so bad, I had no idea. After that, she became my best friend. I took her everywhere. She came with me on my first college visit. We drove across Missouri listening to Depeche Mode, the Book of Love, and 10,000 Maniacs. The music was so loud we had no clue the muffler had fallen off. I was probably hypomanic, but it was still exciting, innocent, and fun.

My sister is also the person who called me at 4:30 am on September 22, 2005 to ask why I was sending emails warning people about an earthquake. She detected something was terribly wrong, she called my husband to check on me at work where I was wandering around in a daze. She is the one who drew me heart pictures to remind me how much I was loved when I wanted to die.

Thank you, Sister, for bringing so much love and laughter into my life.