Skip to main content

Ode to My Sister

My sister and I have always had a love/hate/love relationship. ‘Hope’s the Pope who smokes dope’, I would taunt. ‘Emily FAAAG’, she would cleverly reply. On more than one occasion she tried to convince me I was adopted, and I have oodles of scars on my arms from her razor sharp finger nails. Many a tantrum was thrown in our childhood home…stomping feet, slamming doors, narrowed eyes and curled lips.  There was the time I refused to unlock the front door to let her in and she refused to walk around to the unlocked back door. The time when I was driving her crazy making obnoxious sounds with the vacuum cleaner wand…until she kicked it and chipped my tooth. Of course she got in trouble, because I was miss perfect. Over the years we ripped each other’s posters, stole each other’s clothes, and annoyed each other’s friend to no end. Our parents gave up being referee and eventually told us to work things out on our own…perhaps not the fairest trade, since we could both be pretty mean when we wanted.

 When Hope was 16 and put Dad’s new (to him) truck with its fresh paint job in the ditch (by way of broken barbed wire fence) I thought for sure she was a gonner. Not unlike little Randy, I thought Dad was gonna KILL Hope. And I think I even cried a little on the steps, waiting for them to come back home from picking her up. I guess deep down, even then, I knew I loved my sister.

There are so many good times alongside my sister. Granted, most of them came later in life, as we matured and realized that having a sister was something precious, but I feel lucky for having grown up with one.  Having my sister help me plan my wedding, stand up next to me as I committed myself to my high school sweetheart, watching her stand on her own two feet and fight for the relationship she really wanted and then standing next to her as she committed herself to her high school sweetheart, grieving together as we lost our Grandfathers and witnessed our parents’ hearts break, preparing for the birth of her first child and all the joy we shared once she finally arrived, feeling her firm hand on my shoulder as we wept in the emergency room the day of Matt’s stoke, not knowing what the future held, witnessing the birth of her second child and the pride I felt at his new name, traveling together to move our parents from state to state and spending one very special Father’s Day together just the four of us, snorkeling in Hawaii, Bon Jovi (TWICE!) …the list goes on and on.

We haven’t always been super close – our personalities may be polar opposites in many ways, but still…she is my sister. My one and only. And these past several weeks, when I’ve been so sad, I know her heart is aching too. She’s been helpless to fix anything for me, but I hope she knows how much I love her. 

 One thing I do remember, vividly as a child…singing ‘Black Water’ in the back seat of the Mazda station wagon as we road tripped somewhere as a family.  Often times we were sandwiched in the back seat together, forced to listen to the 70’s rock our parents enjoyed.  But every once in a while, a song came along that we loved and we would pretend to play instruments and sing together.  ‘Black Water’ was one of my favorites…’pretty mama come and take me by the hand’… and to this day when I hear it, I think of you, Hope…and I smile. 
Here's to my sister...Black Water - Doobie Brothers


Emily said…
You're lucky to have each other! I feel kinda bad for men, because as much as brotherhood means, I don't think it comes close to sisterhood. I love the pictures of you two together!
Matt and Emily said…
It's true...there is something about sisters. Yeah, we were prety cute! :)

Popular posts from this blog

Carrie Anne - The Beginning of the Story

So, I’ve been trying to sort out how to start this story. It’s been difficult to articulate. Difficult to pick which details to share, and which to hold close. But it’s a story too good, too beautiful, not to share – so here goes! When Matt and I first became parents, we thought our family was complete. We envisioned raising Ethan surrounded by loving friends and family – just the two of us. Given all that we had gone through to finally become parents, we felt content with just the one child. The most adorable boy in the whole wide world. Our Ethan was the apple of our eyes – the most amazing gift. We marveled at all of his accomplishments, soaked up all his love and personality, and celebrated the joy of parenthood at every exhausting, wonderful turn. Along the way, we’ve built a strong and loving relationship with Ethan’s birthmother. We visit yearly, and stay in close contact with pictures, emails, and texts. I have attempted to describe my feelings for her many times over the co…

Carrie - The Wait and the Big Arrival!

We arrived in Florida midday Saturday and made our way to the hospital where we met up with Ethan’s birthmother and her mother. We spent a long afternoon in the waiting room while the doctors and nurses put L through a myriad of tests. Finally, they verified the need to induce labor and proceeded to admit her to the hospital with plans to start the induction process Sunday. Exhausted, we left to check in at the hotel and ate what we thought may be our last supper before the baby came…but…. Sunday we arrived at the hospital mid-morning to see how things were progressing. The nurses gave L a medication to help start the dilation process around 12:30 PM…and told us it would likely take 12 hours for things to progress. We stepped out to enjoy the Florida sunshine for lunch for a bit, then settled in for the long haul at the hospital. We spent all afternoon, evening, and night together – holding watch over L as she slept. As we sat there, listening to the baby’s heart beating on the monit…

I may as well tell you...

I had a miscarriage. I’ve debated for weeks whether or not to acknowledge it publicly. It’s such a personal thing…and this is such a public medium. But a few months have gone by and I’m no closer to feeling ok about it and truly nothing else on my mind really compares, so here I am, letting the world in on my secret. Over the past few weeks I’ve found very little comfort in the fact that only a small handful of people know about the miscarriage. It became nearly unbearable this week, during all our wonderful family Christmas celebrations. Being surrounded by so many people who love me and support me and have no idea how my heart has been broken – it’s a lonely place to be. Not that I would want them all to bombard me with pity or questions or sad looks in their eyes – I realize I can’t have it both ways. But a little acknowledgement goes a long way and I simply can’t ignore or deny the fact that something major happened in my life and impacted me, impacts me still.
It was a warm, sunn…