A moment ago, my sister says to me, “He was a ginger, and he totally had a black eye, so I was like ‘what the fuck?’ but we talked for a long time, and it turned out he was a fighter (which explains the black eye) and he also knew a lot about vitamins.”
…and that is what I love about my sister; she says exactly what she means and pulls no punches. At times (like all people), she can be judgmental or even crass, but she truly gives everyone a chance to prove her wrong, which is more than I can say for most people. My big sister (whom I don’t speak of often, in order to spare her embarrassment), is truly amazing. To me she has been an enemy and a friend, a bully and a confidant, a burden and an inspiration, a cautionary tale and a mentor, a sibling and a parent, and I am extremely lucky, or blessed, or what-have-you, to have her in my life. She and I have had our share of differences, some of which have resulted in stabbings (not kidding), but at the end of the day we have a connection that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
My sister struggles with her own afflictions and we share a deep understanding of the personal demons and dark places within each other. She always seems to know when to push me to open up, and when to leave me alone; she asks her share of questions, but also furnishes me with insights that few others in my life are capable of providing. We don’t always get along, and often disagree. We fight, and we hurt each other (sometimes on purpose), and we each harbor our own share of resentment for one another, but in this cruel reality we call life, there is an indescribable comfort in knowing that you are not alone in your experience.