My sister celebrates her birthday today, and I celebrate another year of my life with her in it.
I don’t get to lay eyes on Auntie nearly as much as I’d like, but I’ve come to understand that doesn’t really matter. We could not see each other for months, but that woudn’t affect our being together one tiny bit. Our love doesn’t rely on constant maintenance; it just is.
I don’t think she knows this, but I admire my sister quite a lot. She is wicked smaht, and I think she’s just coming around to believing this herself.
She has a kind of compassion that is both no-nonsense and all-encompassing. She’s not a coddler by any stretch of the imagination, but the fierceness with which she practices her love makes me (and, I’m suspecting, everyone else around her) feel unquestionably safe.
She doesn’t miss a thing, and her ability to see the ironic and funny in everyday life is something that I treasure in her. She tells some of the funniest stories I’ve ever heard – she definitely has a flair for storytelling – and the fact that all of her stories are drawn from her own observations and experiences makes them that much better.
Auntie is the woman you want around in a crisis. She is practical and pragmatic, sharp and quick, and knows how to get things done and manage situations while simultaneously seeing to everyone’s emotional needs, as well. She’s also the woman you want around on a Saturday afternoon to do nothing.
The short answer is that I adore my sister. I’m proud of her, I stand in awe of her, and I’m grateful, every day, that she loves me, too.
Happy birthday, Honey. I love you X2.