Yesterday was Coral’s birthday. She is 32. I am 33. Bing. Bang. Big sis. Lil sis.
When she was born I hated her so much I wanted to kill her. Literally. My parent’s were both in the military. I dropped my Dad’s size 12 combat boots on her newborn head from the height of my crib.
I also tried to suffocate her with an entire package of plastic pampers.
Still she lives.
She has grown on me.
I started a tradition when we were in high school.
It was my birthday and I was shopping at (SURPRISE!) Buffalo Exchange. I found something she would love. I bought it with my scant savings and gave it to her.
I said, “I bought you a present for my birthday!”
So yesterday she gave ME a present for HER birthday. I love it. It’s magical.
When she gave me the gift we both yelled like retards, “SISTERS FOREVER!” Then we made our stupid faces and shrugged our shoulders simultaneously.
She moved to Las Vegas today. It’s an excellent move for her. It’s exactly what she needs to do. But it’s a tragic move for me.
We got in an argument last year. I was hurt. So I froze her out for a few days. That’s what I do when I’m mortally wounded. I freeze up. I freeze out. I wouldn’t speak to her. At long last I decided to forgive. She said, “Oh. I can breathe again.”
She’s gone and I can’t breathe.
When we were growing up we shared a queen size bed. We argued and laughed and popped each other’s toes every night.
I would grab her foot when she least expected it and start pulling and bending her toes until they cracked.
She would laugh hysterically and scream, “NOT THE BIG TOE! NOT THE BIG TOE!”
She writhed and wiggled and I would eventually grab her big toe and pull with all my might until it POPPED.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Stop it! You IDIOT! That hurts!” she would laugh.
We always called each other idiots. Or Stupid. Or Stupid Idiot.
Even now when one of us is particularly hilarious we don’t say, “My, you are clever!” or even, “You are quite humorous!”. Nope. When one of us is funny the other must laugh and say, “You’re STUPID!”. It’s the rules.
When we were in high school we would write each other notes during class that made fun of everyone and everything in sight. We snuck each other our letters as we passed in the hallway. Covert op.
We both consider “Eat, Pray, Love” to be inspired literature. We quote it daily.
This morning she found me and cheerfully said, “I’m leaving FOREVER!” We hugged and discussed Eat, Pray, Love like it was scripture. “The most human way I can put it is that I’ve put on weight.”
We share souls. We share dreams. We are connected on a level it may take me a million years to understand.
I will severely miss having her scrawny, tatoo laden shoulder to cry on.
We have had a hard year, the two of us. The worst of our lives thus far. We have walked and crawled and run down this bumpy, heart-break-y road of life clinging to one another. We have taken turns being the strong one. We have held one another up. We have held each other together like crazy glue. Like crazy sisters without a clue.
Happy Birthday, Lil Sis. Happy Love. Happy Life. Super Joy. I love you. You’re Stupid and I‘m soooo much prettier than you.
My mascara is running. I’d better go catch it.
