When my sister and I were younger, we fought (as the saying goes) like cats and dogs. We had a love-hate kind of relationship... We loved each other and hated to admit it to anyone. I’m sure we about drove my mother crazy.
We lived in a rural area, and in the summer we had to count on ourselves to create whatever fun we had. Many of my days were spent swinging from grapevines in the woods or wading in the creek looking for crawdads on my grandfather’s property. As you can tell, I was a full-fledged tomboy – my sister definitely was not! We were as different as two girls could be.
Anyway, when we were in high school, one day my sister came home from school with a black eye. Now, during those years, we did the best we could to pretend we weren’t even related, much less sisters. But when I saw her that day, I was furious! How could someone do that to her? The next day at school I decided to confront the girl that was responsible. Nobody was gonna be mean to my sister!
I don’t remember what happened that day at school. What I do remember, though, is that when I got off the bus that afternoon and my sister asked me about what happened between me & "the other girl", I down-played my actions. Heck, I didn’t want her thinking I was going soft by protecting her.
Well, we’re grownups now and I’ve learned some valuable lessons along the way on this ride called life. One being carried over from that day at school… when it seems the world is against you – there’s nothing like a sister to have your back. I don't where I'd be today without her. She's had mine numerous times during my bouts with depressions over the years.
Today, I’ll proudly tell the world– “Hey, that’s my sister!”
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