the best tasting pickle i ever heard.

On our front porch.

So my sister and I are 3 years, 1 day, 23 hours and 17 minutes apart. Today we celebrated her birthday and, day after next, we'll celebrate mine. This is proof that we are not twins, although we've been asked that question many, many times (this would make sense to me if she didn't look like the Indian and I didn't look like the Negro).

There are reports that when I was very young, I peed her bed every night. Once when she socked me in the stomach, she talked to the iron to make me laugh so I wouldn't tell our mother. We were close but not close at the same time. I mean, when my mother was upset and we were about to undergo corporal punishment, we would stand in our closet and test belts together...trying to figure out which one hurt the least (We weren't very smart since we bought into the theory that smaller (read: thinner) belts hurt less. Anyone into S&M knows that this is patently untrue.). At the same time, I'm pretty sure she couldn't stand me. She had to share a room with me, her birthday with me, she never really got to have anything for herself. We were perpetually, "Paulette and Debbie."

I used to hide under her bed in the dark and grab her ankle when she walked by, scaring the crap out of her. I know. That wasn't very nice.

By the time my sister left for college, she pretty much ran away. I didn't blame her. I am not sure how she survived some of the horrible things that were said to her by my parents, things that were done and not done. Things that I'm pretty sure almost killed her spirit. It makes me cry to think of all the support she didn't receive just because my parents didn't quite understand her, and thus, rejected what they didn't understand. I know she has fought hard to recover herself from the things that were never given to her, stolen from her. I have vivid memories of certain events. I had no way to help her. And on some level, I'm not sure I wanted to.

Us in the animal print robes at fancy DC hotel.

Now we're grown up and somehow we've made our way to each other. We have fought hard for this relationship.I know people who have siblings who they don't like, who they don't talk to, they don't admire, who are not supportive, etc. I'm grateful that that's not my story.

I am not always the best sister in this deal.  I am often the quintessential little sister, spoiled rotten. My sister has, in the last decade, learned to not let me manipulate her. I've often taken every opportunity to push her away, yet my sister has remained faithful to me, my biggest cheerleader, my biggest supporter, one of my best friends. She stands firmly in my corner, proud of me, sure of me even when I'm not sure of myself.

She is the source of some of my best adventures and my most gut-busting laughs. She has expanded my world and exposed me to so much. Stuff I'm pretty sure I never would have known about had it not been for her.

I remember almost losing her seven years ago now. I was pissed because she couldn't rally to make the trip up to my family in New York for Christmas because she hadn't been feeling well. We ended up celebrating her birthday in the hospital a few weeks later. She was released and on the mend so I took my already planned trip to Chicago for a week. When I returned, I quickly made my way to her as she didn't sound quite right. That was a Tuesday. By Friday she was admitted to the ICU. By Sunday she was on a ventilator, unable to breathe for herself. I will never forget what it felt when I walked back into that room after they'd put her on the ventilator. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

After eight days, she pulled her ventilator tube out but did not wake up. I didn't pray during that time until the night the doctors were pushing hard for a lung biopsy which meant she would go back on the ventilator and be exposed to infection and possibly further complications by the procedure. I managed, "God you have to do something," or something like that. The next day when we walked into the ICU, her eyes were barely open, but they were open nonetheless. She was my own personal miracle.

I am often saddened by the fact that she has had so many struggles in her physical body. I don't understand her experience and I know I am not always the best at empathizing. She doesn't deserve what she's been through, and is still dealing with. Yet, she goes through each rough patch and comes out on the other side determined to live. Her ability to be introspective and reflective is something I aspire to.

Thankfuk she doesn't have on her adventure hat. Oy.

I used to leave for high school every morning at around 6:30am. When she was home from college, I had a habit of going downstairs to her room (her room was in the basement) to borrow things from her closet and ask her how I looked. Almost everyday, mad that I had woken her up so early, she would insist that not only had my forehead grown (or something to that effect) but that whatever I had on didn't look very good (She would ask the question, "Is that what you're wearing?). This would upset me to no end. And yet I would go downstairs everyday for the same punishment. That is the strength of our sisterly bond.

So on this occasion of your birthday, you should know that I love you, Paulette Beetie, even though I don't understand poetry! You're the best tasting pickle I ever heard!

#teampeebie #porkgirlsruleyo #donutsrock #immonsterfromtheBU #sorrythemantookyourwheelchair #sorrythemanjookedyou #whyareyousodotish #pleasereadthevaginapoem #gratefulyouremysister


I pray you see beauty, practice gratefulness, and experience the goodness of life in this new year. Amen.