Sisters are different flowers from the same garden. ~Author Unknown
When I was seven years old, my mama had another baby. A girl. All I remember is that when I woke up one morning, my mom and dad were gone and my dad had whisked my mom to the hospital. My aunts explained to my little brother and I what was happening.
Your mom had the baby. She's almost as big as a sack of potatoes.
I didn't get it, being only seven years old. But she was a big baby, just shy of ten pounds. When my mama returned from the hospital one grey afternoon, I remember running alongside our yellow Datsun as they slowly drove through the driveway to the back of the house. My cousins ran alongside me. We were excited.
I mean, she was this big fat baby the size of a sack of potatoes. Come on, now.
But my mama shooed all of us and our dirty hands away from the baby. Typical mama. Eventually, she let us see her close up. My baby sister Jennifer was all fat cheeks and big, bald head. Her birth was a blessing to my family, I realize now. My entire family had just gone through this huge traumatic event--my grandfather tragically died and my uncle was fighting for his life in the hospital. And yet, this little baby was born. She was like a healing balm on my mother's heart. My uncle's too--he used to hold her and give her kisses from his wheelchair and neck brace in the rehabilitation home.
She was my roommate for several years. She would wake up early and sing softly to herself and her dolls. She used to cut off my Barbie's hair and write on their faces with marker. Once, when she was about three years old, we were driving home from a summer BBQ in the back of a VW bus, and she was bouncing around on my lap (there weren't any car seat laws back then). Suddenly, she puked up her lunch all over me. I reeked of hot dogs and mayonnaise for the rest of the ride home. I think I can still smell it. Oh, and remember that Pacman drawing for the book fair contest you ruined, Jennifer? Obviously, I haven't let it go.
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| I can see all of my beautiful nieces in my sister's photos. |
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| I had a laugh because I couldn't find any photos of us together when we were younger because we were probably too busy scratching each others eyes out and grabbing fistfuls of hair. |
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| Sister love. |
