Dear Amy,

I cannot remember the moment you became my little sister.  I only know that you have always been there (minus the first twenty-two months, which were spent honing my leadership skills, surely anticipating your eventual arrival).  Typical of siblings, we have not always gotten along.  Rather, we've intensely argued at times, but in such a way that is only possible between people who love each other so very much, a John 15:13 kind of love.

A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty

 Those who know us best can immediately enumerate our differences:

• You are a redhead and I am a brunette.
• You have green eyes and mine are blue.
• You are fair-skinned and I am not.
• You look like mom and I look exactly like dad.
• You often prefer to be passive.  I am anything but.
• You were always the good girl and I was the big sister who would fight to protect you.  (I would not let others be mean to my little sis.  That was my job, and I took it seriously.  This much remains the same.) "Sisters annoy, interfere, criticize. Indulge in monumental sulks, in huffs, in snide remarks. Borrow. Break. Monopolize the bathroom. Are always underfoot. But if catastrophe should strike, sisters are there. Defending you against all comers." ~Pam Brown
• You are creative beyond measure and while I try to be as well, my analytical mind too often gets in the way.
• You draw and paint and create.  I write ~ just like this post.  It is my birthday card to you.

True, we are also similar.

• Sometimes your kids drive you crazy.  I feel that way about mine occasionally too.
• We are both public servants:  you, a minister's wife.  Me, a teacher.
• We had the happiest of childhoods, and shared the sadness of heartbreak.
• We loved our dad even when he couldn't remember to love us back, and we continue to be blessed by an angel mother.  (She is our gift from God.)

You are a support and encouragement and while I am the older one, I somehow feel larger than life because I stand on your shoulders.  You understand when I smile about Spring Garden memories or laugh about Hee Haw jigs (and ugly yearbook photos from 1974 ~ you remember her name).  And sometimes your beliefs are prophetic...like years ago, when you wished a particular educational journey for me; the one that slowly, slowly I came to accept for myself.  You are the one who colors my world and reminds me that even in an open, endless field of achievement and goals and dreams ~ there are flowers.  I love you.  Happy Birthday!

xoxo, ~S.

To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. ~Clara Ortega