If you would have told 10-year-old me that my little sister and I would someday become best friends, I would have laughed in your face.
And if you’d told that younger version of myself that I’d soon miss sharing a bed with the precocious blonde who’d accidentally wake me up with a foot to the face, I’d call you crazy.
Then years later, I’d eat my words. Because as it turns out, she is my best friend, and there are days I miss being close enough to share a bed and stay up late at night discussing what the shadows on the ceiling look like to us.
Folks, let me tell you now, no one will ever understand you like a sister does.
At 10 years old, though, all I knew is that no one could make you mad quite like a sister. Kelsey and I had some ferocious screaming matches that lasted for hours and ended with us not speaking to each other. Most of them revolved around chores.
You see, Kelsey didn’t like to work. Mom would leave us a list of chores to do, and I would immediately complete my half of the list. Kelsey would wait, and wait and wait some more.
It became a constant game of chicken. She knew if she waited long enough, I’d finish the chores myself because if they weren’t finished in time, we’d both be in trouble.
It INFURIATED me. I did a few things out of anger that I’m not proud of – including spilling the Santa secret to her when she was only in kindergarten. Sorry sis.
In those moments of anger, it was hard to remember ever liking my baby sister. I’d pretend she was the most annoying person in the world, until I wanted to play with her again. And boy could we play.