“You never write about me,” she says.

“Yes, I do!” I challenge.

“No. I have read every blog you’ve ever posted, and you don’t write about me. You’ve written about Kenny (my brother) and mom, and dad, and a million other people… but never about me.”

She’s fake pouting, but behind her fake tantrum I can see it actually bothers her. In all honesty, I have no reasons to offer her, because she’s one of the most valuable people on the planet to me. So I plan to write about her, but when I stare at the monitor the words seem to evade me. So I save the file. I take it out and look at it every once in a while, I write for some time and then save it again. It’s never right, it’s never enough. I relate to the little drummer boy. The words are weak. I need giants and swords and action bits, I save the draft again.

Truth is, there aren’t words for her. There was a childhood bond created 24 years ago when they brought her home from the doctor. She was 7 years younger than me, so there was a big enough age gap that we never really fought or picked at each other. Her and my brother, now they were constantly going at it, to the point I would occasionally sit in the middle in the back seat just for some peace and quiet.

It wasn’t one of those movie sibling stories where we hung out all the time, or I always helped her with her homework. It was more like my childhood years simply bonded me to my siblings for eternity. Maybe because I was older than them I became a mother hen to them, I don’t know. But my instinct I have toward both my brother and my sister is as close to how I feel toward Hailey and Faith as possible.

When I went off to serve in the Air Force, my sister could hardly say goodbye. She hid in the front yard when I had to leave. She wouldn’t look at me. She felt abandoned. Now it is well over ten years later, some 4,000 days have gone by. And as days go by, of course life happens. I’ve moved all around, I’ve married, I’ve divorced, I’ve struggled, I’ve fought, I’ve remarried, and I’ve watched all aspects of the world as I knew it, change. And over those 4,000 days, she has too. Moments when life is at its lowest of lows, or as low as you can imagine it being, before the bottom falls out and you drop 20 more feet into the pit you so desperately want rid of… and the only person that can make you crack a smile is your sister (I would add or brother, but I am pretty sure if she doesn’t get her very own post, she will KILL me and hide the body in 65 different locations… so Kenny if you’re reading this… get out the decoder, your message is in here too).

The best part is, she has been there for me during all the bad parts, but life has turned again, as it always seems to if you stick it out to play the game in full. You get the highs and lows and all the in betweens. Recently, we’ve just been doing a lot of laughing. Our mutual friends claim they can’t tell our voice or laugh apart. She finishes my sentences often, refills my wine glass frequently, and always knows when to say my hair looks pretty. I get to see her be a mom now, and chase around my little niece and nephew that remind me so much of life 20 years ago. My life is more complete because I have her in it. And I hope she always knows it!