When you live with your sister, you are guaranteed a friend. I don’t mean a stay-up-late-chatting-about-boys-girlfriend, I mean a friend friend. That means she will be honest and straight forward (even when it isn’t something you want to hear).
When I moved in with my sister, my self-confidence isn’t what we would call sky-rocketing. I remember the first time I went out to eat with her friends–I was appalled Here I had wasted my potential by becoming a teacher, while these girls had great government jobs. They would make comments about how hard my job was, but of course they were just saying those things. It wasn’t until I grew to realize what an honor it is to teach that I realized they were right. I was doing something that I chose to do–and I was good at it. Nothing wrong with being proud of that.
I remember a trip to New York City for my birthday, my sister took me shopping for leggings and big shirts. She informed me that, contrary to what I had felt, I could wear leggings. And that my big clothes just made me look bigger. I needed to wear clothes that were more fitted.
Ahhh…New York City with your sister. Forget the long boring bus ride, but don’t forget all the fun things you can do with your sister. The Empire State Building, Broadway Shows, Eating, Shopping, Sight Seeing… (Not long ago I had a Can-I-Return-This-Baby moment when I realized that I won’t be able to just pack up and take trips to NYC with my sister on a whim).
We had a lot of fun at home too: one winter we pulled on our snow clothes, and trampled out to play in the snow. We rode bikes (not so easily) and had some embarrassing gymnastic moments which included me falling on my head while attempting a handstand. We walked out into a normally busy street and stared open-jawed at the barren lanes. We had Blakley sister photo shoots, and were the talk of the block (in our heads, anyway). We may have even crawled into bed together that winter…
In the mornings, you know to stay out of your sister’s way. Why your parents could have two children so different? Heaven only knows. So, knowing that while you wake up chipper and ready to carry on a conversation, it’s better to steer clear of the grumpy one. You’re better off preparing breakfast for the two of you. Or supper if it’s in the evening. My sister and I had the perfect arrangement: She buys the food. I cook the food. I also clean out the fridge. Because skinny little (older) sisters don’t really eat. When I arrived, all that graced the refrigerator was a giant jar of sweet relish. Not a regular size jar–but one of those Sam’s sized jars bigger than one person could possibly manage.
Our unspoken arrangement was this: I worked on fattening her up, and she worked on skinnying me down. Neither of us were too successful…