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The Sister I Choose

Blood may be thicker than water for some, but not for me.

Don’t misunderstand. My family is incredibly important to me. We are a hodgepodge of steps, half’s and even some full-blood relations. And while I love them all, the person that knows me best is not a family member.

Becca is my memory keeper, confidante and sounding board. We met as wary six and eight-year olds after a 25 meter backstroke race. My third place finish surprised Becca, the winner and year-round swimmer.

 

She sauntered up and said, “You’re pretty good.”

Me: “You’re pretty good, too.”

Becca: “You wanna come over and play?”

Me: “Yeah, but I gotta ask my mom.”

And that was the birth of our sisterhood.


We spent hours in her dad’s workshop inventing household items. (Who wouldn’t want a sign for the dishwasher that stated “clean” or “dirty?”) Our makeshift haunted house in her basement nearly torched the house. The Halloween costumes that left paint in my dad’s new Oldsmobile. She taught me how to shave my legs, smoke a cigarette and set me up with college guys when I was still in high school. Becca single-handedly increased my coolness factor.

She remembers and celebrates my mother, reminds me of bad dates I would choose to forget and is my voice of reason when I overreact. Without our daily conversations, something feels amiss.  And our significant others should be grateful, as it relieves them from having to listen to every, single detail of our day.

Maybe I didn’t choose Becca. Maybe something bigger just knew I needed a sister like her. Either way, I’m lucky.

Happy 38th birthday, Becca Jane.

Comments

  1. I would like to say that this is your best blog entry EVER, but I can't read it through my tears. I guess the only thing I can say to your compliments and ego strokes is, "Hey, wanna come over to my house and break a few rocks in my parent's rock garden? My mom makes a really good Coke slushee, and her chocolate surprise cupcakes are out-of-this world."
    Love, your sister friend

    ReplyDelete

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