i still remember the night you were born. i was two and living the glamorous life of a first born only child to new parents. everything was all about me, and i liked that. loved it, really. i feel like i can remember resting my head on mom’s belly, talking to you and asking if you were going to be a girl like me. this may just be a photographic memory, as in, i saw photos of this and turned it into something i actually remember doing. who knows. i know it happened, though.
the night you were born i woke up because i heard commotion going on in mom and dad’s room. their light was on. i had to know what was going on. the room was full of people; auntie carla, auntie helen, maybe an ellenbecker, men in blue suits, dad hovering around the bed and mom laid out on her bed like a thanksgiving turkey. i don’t remember it being scary to see my mother half naked with a big gaping hole being exposed to strange men. i just remember not feeling like the center of attention for once so i made my way out to the living room because no one showed any interest in following me. i’d really show them by disappearing. a stretcher was setting in the middle of the room and it reminded me of my miniature trampoline except it was broad and taller. i was going to jump on it. so i stretched out my foot-long arms and pulled myself up, only to have it tumble over. i thought for sure i was going to get in trouble for that so i ran back to my room and hid under my covers till aunt helen came in to bring me to her house where i would eat watermelon all morning and sip 7-up.
you came home a couple days later in a limousine. quite possibly the first resentment i’ve ever had in life but i was excited to have a real live baby sister. my sister. you became the center of my life. i wanted you to be the center of my attention and i didn’t care about anyone else. my cabbage patch kids grew lonely. they were insignificant compared to you.
when you were 2, mom and dad began to worry because your speech wasn’t clear and not in a typical 2 year-old fashion. your ears needed surgery and everything you had worked so hard to learn was incorrect. no one could understand you, except me. dad, mom, babysitters, aunts, uncles, friends all said the same thing to me, “what is she saying?!” and i would translate your partially deaf baby language to them that i had the dictionary for in my 4 year-old head. you would cry sometimes when people didn’t give you want you needed and i would grow frustrated with all of these so-called adults who knew nothing. “she wants some MILK!” i would scream exasperatedly. i secretly loved that only i could understand you, like i was protecting you from the world and the only one who could really take care of you. mom and dad got you a special speech therapist after your surgeries and i would have to go outside and play when she came over to teach you how to talk like me. i would stare into the house from the window, jealous you got to wear headphones and mourning the daily incremental loss of our secret language.
by the time you hit kindergarten your speech was all but perfect. a few ’s’ sounds here and there and you were good to go. i was so excited that you were finally in school with me. you were so cute and i loved showing off my little sister. you were my prize and i paraded you around the bus stop. you did everything i told you to, including showing people your magic finger (yes, i had you flip people off at age 5). as you got older you would became my own secret spy and mole. our connections ran deep and if i needed to know what this boy thought of me, or so and so’s older sister – you found out. our bond went both ways though, on more than one occasion i body checked a little boy into the playground gravel for teasing you. i found great pleasure in bringing misery to those who tried to do that to you. i was so tough but you knew that secretly, at home, away from the confines of mendenhall river community school, i was far from the tough girl facade i barricaded around myself. i was afraid to sleep alone at night, living in fear of being kidnapped. so, i did what every brave older sister does – sleep with her little sister every night and make her sleep by the door (because if you got kidnapped, i could hide under the covers and go tell mom and dad so they could rescue you). you were my safety blanket and i couldn’t fall asleep without you. we’d lie in bed at night talking and giggling till dad came back at least twice telling us “you girls get to bed now!!” and then that final time when he’d rush back in only his underwear, which meant business. of course, we’d continue to whisper to each other until sleep consumed one of us. or i should say you, you always fell asleep first and then i’d put my arms around you (since you were my real life cabbage patch doll) until you’d either fuss about being too hot or i fell asleep, which ever came first.
i don’t really remember when i quit sleeping with you every night. i’m sure it was some time in middle school when i began to talk on the phone all night with boys and they became my temporary safety blanket.
at the end of my sophomore year all of my friend boys gave me enormous amounts of shit about how my hot younger sister was going to be a freshman next year and how much they all lusted after you. needless to say, none of them had a chance with you and you handled yourself better than i during your first year of high school, as well as each following year.
as i began my deep descent into codependency, drug, and alcohol abuse, we began to grow distant to one another in a way that i’d never experienced with you. it happened so gradually that i can’t pinpoint when you weren’t the person i turned to, when i quit asking for your opinion, and when i couldn’t look you in the eye any longer. the truth is, i quit turning to anyone and just let myself sink into the dark waters of self loathing and destruction. i didn’t want to damage my precious little sister any more than i already had.
the years passed by and you continued to do big things. college. good grades. boyfriends who adored you and treated you with respect. you were everything i wished i could be but never believed i deserved. i continued to boast about you, and on the inside was ashamed i never succeeded in the same ways myself.
those years are all pretty vague to me, but i clearly recall the moment i felt like i had my meg back. we were lying in the bed of a high-rise in bangkok. a few days into our southeast asian family vacation, a trip for the record books. it was late at night and neither of us could sleep due to jet lag and general excitement for the days ahead. i don’t know what shifted that night, but i was able to tell you everything on my mind and in my heart. and i wasn’t drunk. and i wasn’t high. i was present and you were my best friend again.
the following years saw you in italy and me in treatment facilities and jail. you learned how to speak italian and graduated from college; i discovered that i was an alcoholic and an addict. i’m grateful you never came to visit me in lemon creek correctional facility. and that’s all i’m going to say about that period of time.
we found each other in juneau the summer of 2007 both living at mom and dad’s house for the first time since we were teenagers. you were less than enthused when you found out we’d be sharing a room because we would be having multiple guests throughout the summer and not enough bedrooms to accommodate all of us. not so much because of me but because with me came vita, my dog. you were a self-proclaimed dog hater and i remember you saying something like, “is she going to be sleeping in the bed with us?” with a look of disgust. needless to say by the end of the summer you had your own little voice you talked to vita in, and one would be just as likely to find you cuddling with her than me. you were going to move to new york city, i to san francisco. however, after dozens of nights spend together falling asleep to the sound of each other’s voice, we weren’t ready to depart one another again. you were driving me downtown, it was pouring down rain like it only can on an august day in juneau when i turned to you and said, ‘let’s go stay at mom and dad’s place in arizona this fall.’ we arrived in phoenix on october 3rd not knowing what to expect at all other than there would be little rain and a lot of sister time.
we could have each had our own bedroom but we decided why sleep apart? the seven year-old inside me was delighted that i had my little sissy next to me every night once again. i wasn’t ready to be apart from you. i needed you. the following months i can only compare to my first quarter of college. we partied like it was going out of style. we made our mark. we were the alaskan twins. friendships and lovers ensued, we lost some of each but maintained each other. fortunately for you, that lifestyle (while maybe not particularly healthy) didn’t bring you to your knees. i, once again, landed in a drug & alchol rehab facility; while you got a job and continued on like it wasn’t a thing. when i got out you were there for me. you never gave up on me. all i ever received from you was unconditional love, a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to hold on to. if i ever had a rock in life outside of mom and dad – it’s been you. life got a lot lighter after our rock & roll winter. you had a dream one may night about a little black dog. the next day we found ourselves in the food city parking lot on indian school aka the birthplace of pazzo. he was so tiny, and sedated (as we discovered later when his puppy adhd kicked in). little did we know he also only had one toe on his left foot. oh the love! my sister had turned into a dog lover. it was beyond amazing for me and i couldn’t help but feel like some of me must have rubbed off on you.
you moved to nyc in july and i finally made it to sf in january. we’re thousands of miles apart but it never feels like it. i call you any time and you answer with your british accent. ayyy sissay! and soon i’m walking down the street speaking elizabethan. i’m far from perfect these days. i still struggle with loving myself, telling the truth, and doing the next right thing. however, i’m trying, and i model myself after you. you give me hope and inspiration. and love. so much love. day by day i feel a little bit more love for myself that i didn’t feel the day before. i may have been able to make it through these years. . . but i just have easily may have not. . . because as much as i have struggled and not wanted to be a part of this life, i still have had my sister to look out for and protect. i may have been able to give up on myself but i could never give up on you. i will forever do anything for you and love you like no other.
