Everyone should have a sister. I’ve been blessed with two. This is about one of them.
When we were younger, we used to put on ‘shows’. One of us would be the singer, and the other would be the back-up dancer. She would sing her heart out in to our hairbrush-turned-microphone, and I would wiggle and dance behind her. Time to switch roles! She would say, “This time, I think the dancer should be in front.” I’d dutifully agree. There I was, singing MY heart out behind my dancer! Sheesh.
One year for Christmas, Santa brought us identical presents. They were child-size owls holding a chalk-board with little compartments to hold chalk and other things. We walked down the stairs Christmas morning and went running to the owls. She touched one, and his glasses broke and fell off. “Oh, Dana,” she said, “Yours is broken.”
We shared a bedroom for most of our childhood, and she used to sing me to sleep when I was scared or sad. Every. Time.
She is the only person in this whole world who knows all my demons. She has met every skeleton in my closet, and she loves me anyway. She was my first friend.
Everyone should have a sister.