I was in the second grade.

It was recess.

I was playing with my friends outside in our designated area.

I saw the green Plymouth cruise slowly by and pull over to the curb.

I ran over to it.

My father leaned toward the passenger window.

“What did you want?” he asked.

“A girl” I blurted out.

“You got her” he replied.

I jumped up and down with happy.

That’s all I remember from May 1st, 1952.

Her crib was in my room…well, I guess it was our room then.

I waited each night for it to get quiet, then I lifted her from the crib and into my arms.

I fell asleep each night holding her.

Somehow, each morning she was back in her crib.

Her first summer I was called from playing outside with my friends almost every day.

They made me push her in the stroller.

I didnt want to.

I wanted to play with my friends.

I was only 8 years old…she was their baby, not mine!

Why didn’t they push her?

Still, every night I held her in my arms and fell asleep.

I always called her “my little sister.”

She was a funny little girl…had her own style of dressing.

My mom let her wear her cowboy boots, guns and holster to church on Sunday.

I took her with me on drive-in dates.

I watched over her and then one day I left.

She was 12 when I was married.

Time for me to go.

She stood at the screen door and watched me go.

She begged me not to leave.

She sobbed.

That scene was branded on my brain and I cried a heart-full of tears, unable to forget.

Each summer I brought her to stay with me, wherever I was.

Time marched on, it was the middle of life now.

We became adults together.

She was still my little sister but now also my friend.

One day she told me to stop calling her “my little sister.”

I was sad, but I did as she asked.

She married and moved away.

I missed her.

She would come and stay with me often.

We laughed a lot.

 

I moved far away.

I missed her.

She came to visit whenever she could.

My life fell apart.

She called me one day and told me she’d help me any way she could.

She offered me money.

I never forgot that.

My life got better.

Her life got worse.

She came to live near me.

It was hard for her.

I couldn’t stand to watch her struggle.

Now it was my turn to offer help.

We lived together for a while.

We laughed a lot.

Someone came into her life, they fell in love. She was happy.

She moved far away with him.

I missed her.

Time passed.

Things happened.

Decisions were made.

I was forced to change my life dramatically.

I felt alone.

Time passed and passed and passed.

She’s still far away.

We became lost.

We only connect once or twice a year now.

Our greetings have gone from love to polite.

She’s not my little sister anymore.

I guess we’re not even friends anymore.

Life has a way of changing us all but,

I hold tight to my memories and they live in a special spot in my heart.

I think of her.

I hope she’s happy.

I hope she’s well.

Our mom watches over us now.

She told me she would.

I talk to her every day.

I give her messages to send to my sister.

Today I’m sending her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY wish.

I hope she feels it.