What are sisters for?
When I was 3, I totally stole the show at Carly’s 5th birthday party by cheering about the brand new pair of “glubs” I got. I can’t help it if I was cute and extremely grateful. She, however, holds a grudge still today. Apparently it ruined her awesome rendition of Fur Elise on her new keyboard.
When I was 9, I had to share a bed with Carly. She was the worst because she’d kick and talk in her sleep. Every now and again she would sleep walk, too, which scared the piss out of me. Not to mention, I also had to sleep against the cold wall. On a normal night, mom would have to yell at us and tell us to go to sleep because we were being too loud, laughing and telling stories.
When I was 11, Carly enjoyed dressing me up in her clothes. We’d also sing with a microphone and record ourselves. There is a tape out there, somewhere, with me singing “What if God was one of us” by Joan Osborne, taunting me. She has it. I just know it.
When I was 12, I begged my mom to let me shave my legs. Now, I don’t know if mom wasn’t in the mood to teach me or not, but when Carly adamantly demanded that she be the one to teach me instead of mom, I somehow found myself sitting in my underwear and a t-shirt on the side of the bathtub covered in shaving cream.
When I was 14, I was subjected to Carly’s interesting driving style and stupidly agreed to sit shot gun while she learned how to drive a stick shift for the first time. It wasn’t until I hit my head off the dashboard the third time when I finally realized that I probably should have stayed at home.
When I was 15, I listened when Carly devised a plan to allow our boyfriends to come hang out at the house when mom was out of town and specifically said, “No boys allowed.” We weren’t very bright then, because when we left the huge front window wide open, all the neighbors knew and called mom to alert her that we were dancing with boys in the living room.
Also when I was 15, after Tony died, Carly let me sleep in her bed because it was the only way she knew how to make me feel better. She drove me to his house to grieve and sat silently with me on the swing in the backyard while I cried, and held it together even though she was hurting, too. Tony was her friend, too.
When I was 18, Carly told me to get my shit together and stop taking such awful care of myself. I’m pretty sure she threatened to tell mom on me.
When I was 21, Carly agreed to be my maid of honor and made one of the most touching, honest, beautiful speeches ever at my wedding.
When I was 23, Carly rearranged her entire work schedule so that Claire would have someone to watch her every Friday when I had to go to work. To this day, I still think it was one of the greatest sacrifices anyone has ever made for me.
When I was 24, Carly took a week’s vacation from work to stay at the house awaiting Luca’s birth. She watched 90210 with me, helped with Claire and even let me wash her car to induce labor. She was also witness to the birth of Luca. She held my hand (or my leg, I’m a little fuzzy on the details) and held back tears as she was the third person (aside from hospital staff, of course) to hold him.
When I was 25, Carly took me to see Eclipse. (Yes, of the Twilight series.) And again, when I was 26, to see Breaking Dawn. Libations were served and I can’t even remember the last time I laughed so hard. After all, Kristen Stewart’s acting requires to be under the influence to fully appreciate.
In the 27 years I have known her, Carly has never let me down. She has always been relatively honest with me and she’s always understood me. That’s 27 years of memories. A person like that is a rarity.
I never know what to get her for her birthday, because she’s always given so much to me, I don’t even know where to begin. But I’ll begin with this – thank you. Thank you for always being a rock and a constant when life just sometimes just didn’t make sense. Thank you for talking me down, keeping me sane, loving my kids and putting up with my husband. Thank you for always listening to me and never telling me how many times you had to turn down the volume on the phone because I gradually got louder and louder. Thank you for being my sister.
So. To my sister who is not only one of the only people who fully understands me, but makes the better chocolate chip cookie, Happy 29th Birthday.
IT’S YOUR SISTA, TALK TO YOUR SISTA! …inside joke.