This coming Monday, my little sister turns 30... my little baby sis, who used to pee on me during diaper changings; whom, as a toddler, I used to delight in tormenting, mentally and physically (for no better reason than she completely lacked the ability to seek recourse); who, at the age of three or so, clobbered me on the back of the head with a brass cat statue when I wasn't looking for no readily apparent reason (as you can see, she got her revenge!); who used to sing songs that she made up as she went along; with whom my friends and I used to play the "Potty Monster" game; who was identified as "gifted and talented" back in elementary school (she was, and is, quite "special" in a lot of ways actually... haha!); who horrified me beyond words the first time I heard her use profanity, saw her smoke, etc., etc.; for whom I felt responsible when we were young, and who is now my drinking buddy and best friend. 30 years old... wow!
It's not that I consider 30 old, not by any stretch. I'm 35 (I think) and I still feel (and act) like a stupid kid (the people that will confirm this are legion), and, where it counts, she is much more of an adult than I... She has a "real person" job (complete with actual professional obligations), a husband of soon to be six years, a home, two cars and two dogs (meanwhile, I have no less than three stuffed plush monkey toys). All that being said, as stunted maturation leaves me in my perpetual, and mostly blissful, state of delusional youth, I always feel at my youngest (and my happiest) when spending time with my sister... and as young as I feel, I look upon her and see a joy and exuberance of youth even greater than my own (even when she gets really drunk and cries for no reason!) and I know that regardless of age, health, fortune... whatever, she will always be my little sis.
But, shit, 30 years old?!?!? When the hell did this happen???
1 comment:
Awww! That actually made me tear up a little and laugh my ass off at the same time. Thanks, Ted! :-)
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