The Bride’s post the other day has inspired my own little paean.
One Friday, after a fairly brutal session at the gym that Wednesday, and an exhausting and eventually frustrating day, I came home to pass out on the couch. I was so very tired. All I wanted to do was sleep. My arms hurt, especially my triceps. I hadn’t been able to lift my arms all day, couldn’t tie or untie my hair, couldn’t hold my phone, etc. And it being a very important day at work, I’d had tor un around, lift things, coordinate etc anyway. Suddenly my arms began to spasm and they hurt so much I couldn’t find a comfortable position and I just lay there and started to cry out oh sheer helplessness.
Once OOF soothed me out of it, and I had the energy to try and do something I didn’t know where to find out what to do. So I called my sister, all the way in the USA. To ask her if I should hot or cold foment it.
What! you might say, gentle reader, is this not a time for frugality and the avoidance of unnecessary ISD calls?
Somewhere between 2006 and 2008, I became addicted to my sister. I have known her for going on 27 years, and boy oh BOY did we have sibling issues! All the aunts and uncles would spoil me and ignore her, and my mum would ignore me to combat that. She always did exceedingly well in class (top of the bunch right through), and was Head Girl etc. For a long time I was referred to as (mincat’s)’s sister.
Spoilt brat that I was, I hated it. But she was also my big sister. I used to go skulk outside her class during breaks for the first 2 years of school. I always wanted to do the things she did and wear the things she wore. (Well…except for that wedge cut…) There was no greater mystery than what she did with her big gang of friends in high school (and recently I have begun to discover what some of those things were and they STILL evoke excitement).
Then she went to college and I went to high school and we couldn’t even be around each other mroe than 2 days without humongous fights erupting. I felt it was unfair that just because she wasn’t living at home she got to get away with stuff that I would be reprimanded for doing or saying.
Then she moved off to the US for her PhD and I went away to college too. My parents freaked out when I told em I had a drink (they still get far more hyper than the situation merits, but they stillo don’t react when she does). I came back for post grad. They still freaked out about everything, such as coming home after 11pm. I remember my sister, in high school, being allowed to go to the only club in town, far out, with a friend driving our car. I barely ever talked to her during all this time.
Then I moved to the US. Just before that, I managed to deal with some of these issues and understand parental perspectives on a highly unpredictable erratic child, who could do so much but would simply toss it away for no reason what so ever. How could they not freak out. I figured that my sister, for all our friction, was still my sister! And she understood the madness that went into the formation of MinCat more than anyone else. And so began the building of this relationship I can’t imagine how i managed without. Calls once in 2 days becamse calls twice a day, plus hour or two-hour long yaks on weekend free minutes. Every so often I’d fly out to the West Coast to see her. We talked about boys, and drank together. I became able to take her advice without criticism.
But it was only when I came back, and no longer had those daily chats that I realised just how important she is to me. I’m so happy we got past the nonsense years! Today there is nothing major I will do without asking for her opinion, even if I don’t do what she tells me. And there is no more shame in admitting that I was wrong and she was right. As recent events indicate.
I love you Scoo!