Thursday, August 12, 2010

Michelle, My Belle

I called her Baby up until I had my own.

"Come on, Baby," I would say as I reached for her chubby little hand.

She always sang.  She never stopped singing.

My mother would assign chores to the rest of us and say, "Michelle, your job is to sing and make everybody happy."

And she did.

I'm grateful she had blissful childhood. 

As an adult she has endured hard things. She has faced debilitating seizures that have threatened her life. 

Regardless of her trials, my baby sis has remained strong.

When she was a curly haired cherub of four I humored her.

Now she humors me.

'Let's frolick up the hill, Michelle!" I said at our family picnic recently.

"I'm far too serious to frolick," she said.

I laughed obnxiously and frolicked up said hill.  She rolled her eyes and laughed in spite of herself.

I love to make her laugh in spite of herself.  I will do almost ANYTHING to her the magic of her unreserved laughter.

Michelle loves me fiercely and is unabashed about singing my praises.  She thinks FAR too highly of me.  I don't deserve her.

As proven here, Michelle is my protector.  (Isisdro is her nom de plume.)

She may be lithe in body but is a heavy weight where intelligence and rapier wit are involved.

Michelle has had her poetry published by a fancy shcmancy Ivy League University.

Michelle knows who she is.  She stands up for the people she loves and for what she knows is right.  She is fearless in the face of spiritual opposition.

I adore this little sister of mine.

She has out grown me in so many ways.