Thursday, December 23, 2004

My big little sister

I love and adore my baby sister, Meg. I am so fucking happy to have her home. She is a source of constant entertainment. She’s a companion in Mom’s pre-Christmas slavery. She’s a shopping partner. She’s a live-in knitting tutor. She’s someone to go to the gym with. She’s one of my very best friends and life is just a little better when she’s around.

Meg is just like me and nothing at all like me.

On the surface, we’re very similar. Though we’re four years apart, our faces look so alike that we’re often mistaken for twins. Our interests our very similar and our priorities are largely aligned.

It wouldn’t be incorrect to say that Meg is a lot like me.

It would be accurate to say that Meg is me, only better. The new and improved 1986 model.

Smarter.
Taller.
Better athlete.
More outgoing.
Funnier.
Less conservative.
Braver.
More confident.
More artistic.

This isn’t cutting myself down. It is seriously, honestly, genuinely the truth. Meg is good at everything – everyone likes her, everything comes easy to her. I’m jealous. But proud of her. If I can’t be it, I might as well be it’s older sister.

Over the course of the next dozen days, she’ll find a thousand ways to amaze me. She’ll go to boxing and take head shots from her 6’-5” coach and knit a hat in the same day. She’ll go out in public in dirty sweatpants, having not showered in two days, and strike up a conversation with a stranger. She’ll enter rooms and make her presence known.

It’s how things with Meg work. That's why I love her so much.

When we were baking cookies on Tuesday night, my mom was talking about someone with pulmonary fibrosis.

I, struggling to make my cookies look appealing, ask: “What is pulmonary fibrosis, Mom? Something to do with...the heart?”

Meg, who had absolutely no prior knowledge of pulmonary fibrosis, replies (while making effortlessly gorgeous cookies, I should add): “Pulmonary. Lungs. Hello! It’s when your lung tissue gets fibrous.”

At once, I feel stupid and proud.

Then I scream at my parents for making her so much smarter than I am.

1 comments:

Plantation said...

Meg may be all that, but I bet she doesn't blog as well as you do!

 
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