Sisters

While I was in Hawaii, when I was way too busy doing fun stuff to blog, I kept thinking of things that need to be examined in web print. So, in an effort to make it through the list, here goes topic number two.

I grew up a kid of the 50's, a teen of the 60's with an older sister who called me "the Brat". Why? I can't imagine, I am sure I was sweet and pink and rosy. I do remember someone quoting a little verse:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very very good
And when she was bad
She was horrid.

I don't think I was the inspiration, but some might say I could have been.

Seriously, how could anyone say that about this little angel?

Oh wait... wrong angel...
But do you see any curls there? I rest my case.


My sister loved being with me. She couldn't wait to spend time with me...I can hear it now. "Here, hold the baby" "Oh boy, can I, can I? So much more fun than playing with my friends!"


"Hold her hand" "Hmm...How much trouble will I get into if I let go and she falls on her face in the snow?"


My sister loved me so much that she even gave me her favorite dress
"Look, she has your dress on. Doesn't she look cute?" OK, this might have brought out some sympathy. "How absolutely stupid to take pictures of us in the same dress. Come on Mom, get a life"


Oh yeah. That's Mel. She insisted on getting her picture taken with her little brother, because, just like her Aunt, she'd rather do that than anything. Except maybe wear the same dress...

But time goes by and life goes on and things change. Pretty soon I wasn't just the Brat (at least, I think that's true). Eventually, somewhere along the line, we found that we had something in common. Then, it was even more than that. She became my friend. No, not just that. She became what she always was...my sisterYeah, I guess I do have a curl...