I have heard my mother say on more than one occasion that if her pregnancies had been a little easier on her, she would have had more than two children. That's a hard concept for me to grasp because, for as long as I can really remember, it's been Tracy and me. We moved from neighborhood to neighborhood, city to city - by the time we graduated from high school, she and I had shared a total of 8 houses together - so our only lasting friends were each other. I know it was hard on her when I went through adolescence and the three years that separated us seemed like a generation, and I know I was mean to her when she wanted to tag along every time I did something. (In my defense, she did tell mom everything I did that she considered borderline misbehavior, and I was right that time I told her she wouldn't be able to keep up on her scooter when we were on our bikes. When we started downhill, I think she ended up running into a mailbox.) I guess sisters go through that love/hate relationship - you're best friends as small children, you can't stand each other as pre-teens, and then you get older and love each other again.
     Even though I was only three, I have vague memories of my sister's birth. As I've said many times, the one lasting image I have is of Dad in those shoe covers. Dude, when you're three, that's freakin' hilarious! I don't know if I fully understood what was happening to our family, but when that little bundle came home, I wanted to take care of it like a second mommy. That wasn't necessarily a good thing, because I could be a pretty bossy kid, but I've never completely gotten the need to take care of my sister out of my system. On occasion, that has meant not helping out when I thought she needed to face the consequences of her own actions, standing back and letting her make her own mistakes, or keeping my mouth shut when I didn't agree with her choices, but she's the only sister I have and when push comes to shove, I'll always be there for her. Sometimes I still see her as that tiny toddler sitting next to me on the floor watching Muppet Babies on a Saturday morning. What ever happened to that kid? Oh yeah, she's the one turning 24 on August 17th.
     As sisters, we shared almost all of life together (and I mean that. My mom couldn't wait until I was old enough to take Tracy to public bathrooms so she didn't have to anymore. You share enough bathroom stalls with a person and you really get to know them.) We have more inside jokes than some siblings have regular topics of conversation. When I was buying a card for her this year, I found one that said , "You are the person who is most like me, though we are different in countless ways." When I read that, it seemed to capture my relationship with Tracy perfectly. I didn't buy that card. Mostly because it was $4.99 and that was the only thing in it I really liked. Anyway, the point is, as you get older, you realize the true value of the people in your life who knew you when you were young. No matter how much I love my parents or adore my husband, my sister and I have shared so many things that no one will ever know except the two of us. (You know, unless we tell the story, and even then, they don't really KNOW.) I love her very much and I hope that God blesses us with the opportunity to grow old together. Happy birthday, Tracy.