Big sister
As a child, I always wondered
what it would be like
to have a big sister.
Who would make me play
all the roles she didn't want to play
in the make-believe scenarios we'd enact
in our backyard kingdom.
Who would go to high school
four or five years before me,
warn me of the teachers who have no sense of humor,
smoothly pave the road for me to be teacher's pet with others,
and decipher the unwritten code of acceptable seats in the cafeteria.
Who would talk to me about boys
and warn me when she recognized my impending mistakes,
because she made the same ones--
and understand when I get mad and slam my door,
because I know what I'm doing and don't need the unsolicited advice.
Who would have already figured out
how mom and dad would react to any given situation,
and get annoyed when I received a lesser punishment
for the same offense.
Who wouldn't let me borrow her clothes if I asked,
but would offer to let me borrow
the piece of clothing in question
days after the fact--of her own accord--
and would express frustration when I'd go through her closet or drawers
searching for--and finding--
something to wear to school--
after she left the house.
Then she'd get over it.
Who would ask me what was wrong
even if I thought I gave no indication of a problem--
because her "little sis in trouble" radar would always be on hyper alert.
I wouldn't always open up to her about every thing,
but I would always know she'd be willing to listen
if I needed to talk, or to laugh, or to cry.
And she would always come up with something to say--
which would always seem to help,
even if it weren't a direct solution,
because I'd have my best friend beside me.
As a kid, I always wondered
what it would be like
to have a big sister.
But I don't wonder anymore
because for 19 years I've had the best blessing of all.
I am a big sister.
