I’m gonna miss you Sis. We were two only children with nine years between us.
Creative and artistic, stylishly dressed Whatever her look, I thought it the best. Beehive hairdo, cat-eyes sunglasses, petticoats, Cher hair I loved my big sister just cause she was there.
There were a few glimpses of having a mean side. When baby sitting me, she would hide and jump out, scaring me to death, causing me to cry and scream, hardly catching my breath.
She pinched my cheeks – hard! Passive aggressive? HUM Still as a sister she could be fun. Making tents out of blankets and chairs. Swinging me by my hands round and round in the air.
Her taste in movies was eclectic We saw Cinderella twice in a row. And when she wanted to see West Side Story, I was ready to go. I watched her play tennis and ping pong If I picked up the balls I could tag along.
Sure, we had sisterly quarrels along the way. When quite young, I tried to punch, but her long stiff arms kept me at bay. As I grew older, we settled our spats With words, ending with silly insults then laughs.
I thought she was neat-o, cool, awesome. I could go on and on with little vignettes, but by now you get the gist.
Everyone wanted a sister like mine. She kept me up on the latest times. From hula hoop to the twist I was proud that only I could call her SIS!
When she went off to college, I missed her terribly. I cried, “I miss fighting with my sister.” She came back from college so worldly and grown up Movies like Cinderella were replaced with Blow Up.
Adoring my sister, I wanted to be like her. Yet, we could not have been more different, She was artistic and outgoing; I was practical and reserve. Somehow, we got along through some special sister bond.
As young adults busy with kids and jobs we rarely called each other. We met at our parent’s house for holidays and Got bits of family news from our mother. So, calling Sister just to talk seemed odd, why bother?
We reconnected by phone in our old age We were no longer “only” children, and Mom passed away. 0ur first few talks felt like no time had lapsed at all. We enjoyed our chats, giggling and reminiscing. I vowed to regularly call.
At this time of my life, being the baby of the family isn’t fun. Each year there are fewer people around to share memories. I’m now the old grandma who repeats crazy family stories. Sis I would be remiss if I did not end this poem that you will be missed.