S-Lee

A couple months ago, my sister had a friend over. They were listening to annoying music and eating cookies. I probably wasn't doing anything important at all, but I like to pretend. So I wrote Sonja a note, essentially, requesting some peace and quiet. It started out in French, but like most of my exploits involving things of the French variety, I gave up on it quickly. This is what it said:

Pour Sonja

Dear Sonjeet,
Stop being so queer. You're scaring Jessica and shaking the house to its foundation with your fat ass romping about. I love you, but lay off the cookies.

Stay Gay!
<3 Dunja

I celebrated my 21st birthday recently. My sister gave me a card containing that note. She'd kept it all this time. She wrote, "Remember this?"

The card said: For my cool sister on her birthday. If you were any cooler... you'd be me!

Dear Dunjeet!
You are lovely and I love you. Be my sister forever, promise? I know you always hear me say you're gay, but it doesn't mean anything! I swear. Although I get on your nerves a lot, I know you love it. I'm sorry if this card makes no sense. I'll leave it at that. Happy Birthday bb!<3 Love ya!
- Sonja <3

I cried. Happy tears. Thankful tears.

I love how easy it is to love my sister.
I love that I know that no matter what I do, or say, she'll always love me. I love that I know that she'll always be there.
I know that I can always count on her if I don't want to drive somewhere by myself, or to help me with the dishes, or to snuggle up to late at night when I'm feeling sad. I love how I know that she'll pick up the phone at the most inopportune moment and say something embarrassing, that she'll tell that oh-so-hilarious-story about me when I was a kid to all of my friends, that she'll always be the life of the party with her crazy dance moves and entertaining jokes. I love all of her accents, and all of the pictures she draws me (all centering around the theme of me being fat or gay or both), and I love the notes she writes me and even the way she repeatedly takes my stuff without asking. I love how I can be unadulteratedly retarded around my sister, and she'll never think worse of me for it. In fact, she often encourages my more moronic side to make an appearance, and always celebrates the comedic gold that is me at my stupidest. I love that we've shared 16 years of memories together - that I've watched her grow up, that I've been there through every-freaking-imaginable-thing. I love that the little girl who could barely fit her arms around me in a hug when I was aged 7 and crying because I missed home and didn't understand what anyone was saying to me at school is the same little girl who cried with me thirteen years later when all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball because life wasn't fair and I'd had my heart broken. I love that we ran for the ice cream truck as kids and that I warned her about tripping seconds before she did just that and fell on her face, and that I was sick with worry and irrate and crying that day I lost her at the pool. And I love that now she'll get in the car with me and just drive around for hours, singing stupid songs and reminiscing about our summer vacations past, or that she'll give me advice about boys and fashion, or that I can (finally!) wear her clothes. I love that I'll still worry about where she is when she doesn't come home straight from school, or worry that she might not have her housekeys and so wait for her to come home before I leave. And I know I'll never stop worrying about her, and trying to protect her - from bullies, from boys, from our parents - because she's my little sister, and that's my job. But I especially love that it doesn't feel like work to me at all to care about her - I love that I got so lucky. It's not hard loving someone so amazing. No one I know is quite so intelligent, or humorous, or kind. No one I know is quite so talented or loveable. No one I know puts me at ease quite the way she does, or makes it feel quite so nice to be me. No one loves me quite so unconditionally or places me on a higher pedastool or makes me feel more like a child of God then my sister. And maybe that's selfish, but I think that's why I love her most of all. I love my sister because of who she inspires me to be - someone she'll look up to. And I love my sister because I'm at my most genuine, and best, with her. She brings it out, and it's effortless.

I'm not entirely sure why I needed to share that with the world. Maybe it's just one of those things. Too many times on here I'm complaining about something. I figured it'd be a nice change of pace for me to be thankful about something - and there's nothing in the world I'm more thankful for every day of my life than S.