I don't know why I was so sullen. Maybe it was because Caroline was squawking for God knows what reason. Maybe it was because I felt like I had been lied to -- this was not the sister I was looking for. I didn't want a red, floppy, crying baby thing. I wanted someone to play with. That was the promise my parents made, and they certainly hadn't delivered.
But the irritation didn't stop there. I was upset enough over this cruel trick, but then my father thought it was the perfect time for a pop quiz.
Dad: There's big sister Kimmie!
Me: *glares*
Dad: What's your new sister's name?
Me: *more glaring*
Dad: What's the name of your sister, Kimmie?
Me: *turns to look at very interesting white wall*
Dad: Can you say the name of your sister?
Me: *smacks head into desk*
He didn't get past the first question.
* * *
Growing up with Caroline was pretty awesome. I mean, I had a blast. I knocked out her front tooth a few days before Easter, swung a stick into her eye on Christmas Eve and gave her a pretty bad gash on her ankle from playing on the stationary bike. Don't worry; she retaliated. She popped the head off of my favorite Barbie (after burning off a chunk of her hair with a light bulb), forced her smelly sneakers onto my muzzle, even killed a baby toad I had caught. We hit, kicked, screamed, slammed doors, called each other names and avoided eye contact for days.
But it wasn't all bad. She was built-in entertainment on a boring day. She liked to explore the creek with me and didn't mind treks to the local horse barn. We once combined our Beanie Babies to make a big zoo. And we played a lot of games (that I seemed to always win). She talked more than the dogs, and her first word was "Kiki," so that was pretty cool.
* * *
I don't think I truly realized how much I enjoyed my sister's company until I went off to college. I had a lot of fun testing the adult world, but whenever I drove home, I got excited to spend hours in my sister's room, talking about her friends and boys and school, but those weekends went by so fast. And then the months went by so fast and I turned around and another year was gone. I cried every time I had to drive back to school because I slowly realized how much time I spent ignoring and avoiding her during my childhood, and it was for no good reason.
I planned on having a "last hurrah" the summer before her freshman year in college. I wanted to take her to a bunch of places and spend a ridiculous amount of time tanning and relaxing, like an extended version of our family vacations to the Ozarks. That didn't work out; I got a job before I graduated and had to do my time. She went to school and I moved to McHenry, then Crystal Lake, then Little Rock. So really I'm not very good at moving closer to wherever she is at all.
I know, I'm rambling, but here's my point: When she was born, I thought I was going to hate her (probably. I can't remember, but I was pretty vain then, so), but it turns out that I actually kind of really love her. She puts up with my long diatribes about my cats, and I continually try to sort out her life goals and career choices. If I had to do it all again, I would've dropped all of my friends and boyfriends and hung out with her until she screamed at me to get lost, and then I probably would've followed her around for 10 more minutes just to see if she really meant it. If she needs me, she knows I'm a phone call away, and if she really REALLY needs me, she knows I will hop in my car and drive for 8 hours straight to help her.
I can't explain why; I just would. Because she's my sister. And I only have one.
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