Yesterday was my sister's birthday.
She and I have not always had the closest relationship. She is six years my senior, and for kids, that is an eternity, a wide generation gap that cannot be bridged until adulthood.
When we were little, she was my protector. She would tell the best stories on our road trips to visit the grandparents in Florida. I still remember most of one that involved a leprechaun that rode his bicycle up a rainbow to his pot of gold. Or did I ride my bicycle up a rainbow and to a leprechaun's pot of gold? Either way, it was a great story, based on my favorite past time and Irish lore...since my birthday is St. Patrick's Day.
As we got older, my sister had a series of adventures that made me want to protect her. We seemed to switch birth orders for about 20 years. That didn't stop her from bringing my favorite pizza to middle school to celebrate one of my birthdays.
She was always cool, and helped frame my musical tastes. She is the reason I love the Violent Femmes, likely one of the reasons I pursued an interview with them in 1991. I wanted to impress her (among other), obviously. She also helped shape my fashion sense. I BEGGED her for her bleached jean jacket with the ribbons threaded through holes and beaded safety pins.
When she settled down and got hitched, we even took a vacation together...to see the grandparents. She came to visit me in Boston. I spent two summers with she and my brother-in-law.
Eventually, we became friends. We commiserate now. We help each other, when we remember to ask for help.
Hopefully, we'll be able to celebrate our birthday month together for at least another 60 years. Couldn't imagine doing it any other way.
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