Maddening as they might be, a sister is a good thing to have. I should know, I’ve got one.
What’s a sister good for?
When we were young she was good for picking on, or, shame on me, for ignoring.
Now that we’re adults, I’ve found my sister to be a lot more useful. She’s good for lots of talk on the phone—she lives a thousand miles away.
She’s good for an honest opinion. Me, “What do you think of the new title for my book?” Her, “I don’t get it.”
She’s tops for creative ideas with fabric and other such. Bless her heart, she put up with me and made my wedding dress!
Keeping the family history alive too. Though sometimes we have different memories or perspectives on family events, it’s good to reminisce.
A sister is good for looking out for each other. We care deeply—that irrational blood bond—and we’ll always know that.
We just got to spend a few days together with the brothers-in-law, and it was amusing. Whereas I was usually the lead dog on family hikes, being the oldest, this time little sister was often in the lead and checking back with me to see if I was freaking out over the terrain, especially the series of ladders up a 35 foot canyon wall. (Not as bad as I feared.)
My sister has taught/is teaching me patience. After all, we didn’t choose each other. She was born into our family of four: Mom, Dad, little brother, and me. She was plopped into a crib in the heat of Texas, and I didn’t have a thing to say about it. Her arrival must have been quite a shock since it wasn’t long after that my parents pulled up stakes and moved back North. But, seriously, she must look stupefied at me sometimes and really have to put on her patient hat.
Everybody’s written about sisters. But nobody’s written about my sister—my unique sister.