Saturday, July 20, 2013
an older sister
For four years of my life, I was an only child, and on my mom's side, also the only neice and granddaughter. Suffice to say, though I was excited to find out I was to have a little brother, there was no way my tastefully-spoiled self was ready. And I wasn't. At seven, I remember showing my three-year-old brother the "scary animals" on my parents' blanket; the same "scary animals" that had kept him from sleeping in his own bed. He started crying. I told my mom I didn't know why. Three years later, my little sister was born.
I came home to see my friend marry the love of her life. I did, and it was wonderful. But first, I came home to see my little sister graduate from high-school. I came home to spend time with my little brother. We've been through a lot together as a family, and my heart swelled to see how well they're doing. I couldn't be prouder. In spite of my early bullying, they've grown into such incredible young adults. I even had the joy of bringing Deanna to Ithaca College's orientation. We had a graduation party to celebrate after.