My Mother tells me that when I was 21 months old, and my brand new baby sister would cry, I would cry too.
Later, when she was 2 and testing my mothers’ patience, I would come to her defence, 4 year old hands on hips, indignantly exclaiming “Don’t you growl at my sister!”
At 5, I realised that I was my Grandmothers favourite. I ran to her sobbing “You don’t love my sister!” I was devastated. How could you not love this?
On her first day of school I happened to look up from my work and I saw her outside, all alone, crying. It didn’t occur to me to ask permission to leave the room, to ask permission to help her, I just ran. Stood up, bolted out of the classroom, picked her up and took her back to class. She looked at me with her big wet eyes and said ‘I didn’t know where to go.’
That was the first time I got in trouble at school. It was totally worth it though because my sister was crying!
As teens we would hang out our bedroom window in the middle of the night, smoking, giggling, confiding.
From the day she was born she was ‘my sister’.
I had a protective ownership and fierce loyalty that would rival any mothers.
She is my one true best friend. My other half. She is my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my partner in crime. My birthday cake baker, and frequent life saver.
Countless times I have called her from my car, stuck in traffic, screaming into my phone.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it’ she says, and she collects my cherubs from school preventing them, and their teachers, from thinking their mother has deserted them. She feeds them something fresh from the oven for afternoon tea and has hot tea waiting for me when I finally show up in a frazzled heap. Good English tea. Not nasty cheap crap.
She babysits. Long-long days during the holidays when I have to go to work. After a day of umpiring 5 fighting children she cooks dinner for all 9 of us and then sends me home with a jar of home made chutney or a batch of fresh scones.
She feeds the pets and scoops the kitty litter tray so we can take holidays.
She loves my kids as she loves her own.
She doesn’t judge when I eat 3 pieces of cake.
And she makes me laugh, reminds me that life is for living, and lets me complain about my first world problems.
Mum and Dad, 33 years ago today you gave me the best gift a girl could ever wish for.
Bec, if you ever leave me, I’ll kill you.
Happy Birthday xo