Flowers

A Tribute to Sisters – Erin Sullenberger

Before my younger sister was born, I desperately yearned for a younger brother. I vividly remember one evening my mother coming into my bedroom and asking me for name recommendations. I was entirely convinced that the little baby that was living inside of my mother would be a boy, and so I passionately responded that Albert, and only Albert, would greet me in late May or early June. Of course, my parents chuckled to each other, and when I discovered that my Albert did not exist, I must have felt a sense of disappointment. I cannot claim to remember exactly how I felt, but I certainly must not have been thrilled. After all, I was three years old, and all I wanted was a little brother.

Naturally, the age of two is considered to be one of the hardest times during which a parent must raise their child. I can recall that during one afternoon after preschool, I discovered my now two-year-old sister playing (and probably breaking) all of my Polly Pocket toys that were secretly stashed in my bedroom. I complained, of course, but as the oldest child, every accusation I made to my parents was 99% my fault to begin with.

Well, it’s been many years since that devastating, yet typical, day and my perception of my little sister has drastically changed. I tell her sometimes that she ought to be the older sister since she never fails to make me laugh or smile when I am upset, and on the other hand, most of the times she’s upset, it’s my fault. There was a time during my high school career where I was going through some complications, and I would return home after school crying. My mother was there and my extraordinarily comforting dog was there, but I never seemed to truly get better until I was in my little sister’s arms. Thank God for sisters!

There is something, I think, that is so special in a bond between two sisters. I can just give my sister a look, and we know exactly what the other sister is conveying. We have so many different hand gestures that we use to communicate in front of our parents, we are both learning German so that we can talk in a language that nobody else can understand, and we even attempted once to document our complaints in the form of a secret diary written in invisible ink. I have told her all of my secrets, and although I suspect that she is withholding a few from me, for the most part, her life is an open book.

Of course, there will always be arguments between the two of us. I have been trying to get my sister to read a list of my favorite books for years now, and she has just decided to begin the first book on the list. She actually stole the book from me, wrapped it as a Christmas gift addressed to me, and when I opened it confusedly, she announced that she would read it. It was probably one of the best gifts that I received.

Having a sister is just so wonderful because I know that she will always be there for me. I have never gone through a phase of my life where I’ve had one consistent best friend or group of best friends. My best friend has always been my little sister. In half a century from now, the two of us will probably be grandparents, and we’ll still remain best friends.

Sisters are the cure to any malady, whether it be mental, physical, or emotional. There are always rough times between sisters; no family can avoid those good-old-fashioned “she did it” - ”no, she did it” arguments, but in the end, having a sister is totally worth it.