On being a big sister

I can’t remember much of my life as an only child. My memory starts 27 years ago today, when it was brought to a sudden end by a seven-and-a-half-pound, screaming, purple-faced monster emerging from my mother. When you watch the video of my sister’s birth, my three-year-old face looks, for the most part, bored and under whelmed. Like I was pissed off my viewing of Sesame Street was interrupted to watch this noisy mess. How could I have known then that my life was about to change forever.



At the beginning, Eliza wasn’t much more than an annoyance. She mostly just cried, slept, and stole the greater part what used to be my parents’ undivided attention. But as Eliza grew and developed a personality, I found that she was useful to play with, boss around, watch out for and make laugh.



That’s one of my favorite things about being a big sister; I can always make Eliza laugh. She gets me. She’s the one person I’m never ever afraid to be myself around. Whether that means being silly or being bitchy. I can show Eliza the ugliest, most selfish or petty or angry parts of my inside, because I know she’ll always love me anyway. And I hope she gets that. That when I get angry at her or belittle her or get frustrated (because she also knows how to drive me insane more than anyone else), it’s because she’s the one person in the world that I can express those feelings to in that way.



I’m so thankful that Eliza has been there to go everything with me. New step-parents and new siblings, family feuds and family lunches, Shabbat dinners and Catholic weddings, I don’t think I could have done it all alone. No matter what the situation, I know she’s always on my side. For fifteen years, we shared not only a room, but a bed. We also share a dad who likes to take photos early in the morning when we have not yet had a chance to brush our hair.



Eliza is one of the bravest people I know. Not just brave in that she travels all over the world by herself and climbs 100-ft high rocks without a second thought, but also brave in her honesty and her eagerness to speak her mind. As we grow older, Eliza becomes more and more a person that I not only respect and care for. But a person that I’m proud of, a person that I would like to emulate, and a person that I even, dare I say it, look up to.



This is my birthday gift for you, Eliza. A disjointed photographic retrospect on our 27 years of life together. I know I left and moved across the country, but I’m glad we’ve managed to stay in such close contact. Someday I’ll be back and our future children will be able to grow up together. This is very important to me, because I know my future kids are going to ADORE their Aunt Eliza.



So Happy Birthday Fishhead. This is your present, your whole present, so don’t go looking in the mail for some store bought gift or anything. This is all you get.

Love,
Audrey