My dear sister

I always wanted to have a relationship with my sister like my mother had with her sister, Anne. My mother and Aunt Annie were inseparable from the time they were very young girls. Not so with me and my sister. But the separateness was not Debbie's fault. I take full blame for that.

I was three years older than she, and felt far superior to a "little kid." But we lived in the same house, shared the same room and bed for most of our pre-marriage life, and had separate lives. She had her friends, I had mine.

Now days I don't know what I'd do without my sister's encouragement and prayer. And as she lives a good distance from me, we don't see each other much, BUT we do communicate at least once a week via e-mail or phone.

Growing up we shared a room, as I mentioned. Cleaning was a problem for me. I hated cleaning my room, or my part of it. My drawers were a mess, the half of the bureau that was mine was a mess, and my side of the room was always a mess. The floor was linoleum so dust bunnies were a way of life. Deb, bless her heart, was a good cleaner and duster. I couldn't have cared less. So, she'd clean her half of the room, her half of the dirt under the bed, her half of the bureau, her half of the floor under her side of the bureau, and she'd clean down the steps.

As far as cleaning went, I had better things to do. I had to read. I had to practice the piano. I had to pretend I was a teacher and my brothers were my students. I had to play with my dolls. See? Much more important things than cleaning the floor. Oh, yeah, she made her half of the bed, I couldn't care less about that either. What a source of frustration for her.

THE BED we shared is the same one in the picture above which is now shared by my granddaughters, Grace and Annie. That bed was part of the bedroom set my father's mother and father got when they got married in 1906. So it is an official antique, now. And it has withstood all those years. After my sister and I got finished using it, my husband and I used that bed, then when my husband and I expanded in size and no longer fit into that bed, my daughter used the bed. When Alan and I moved to our retirement home, the whole set-- bed, bureau with beveled mirror, and vanity/desk -- moved into my daughter's home. I have to wonder how much longer it will last. My dad liked to point out how well it was made, and that it was curly maple -- does that mean something? It's being made of curly maple, that is?

I was so often jealous of my sister because she was so cute, and when she became a teenager she got pretty. She didn't go through the big-nose stage, which I did. She didn't go through the big-lips stage, which I did. And she always had beautifully combed, stylish hair. And no matter how new my clothing was it always looked blah on me. She could wear rags and look stylish (like my mother). And she stayed thin, even after three children. She's still a beautiful woman at age...no I won't tell how old she is now. Let's just say she's three years old than I, and her bones are beginning to creak!

Deb also did things I would never do, which I won't mention here so as not to embarrass her. Let's just say, she turned out okay, in fact, she's great, and a spiritual mentor for me. I thank God daily for her, and for the prayers she says for me and mine. I love you sister!