"I hate my little sister so much. Everyone thinks she's so cute, but she's actually not," my sister said to me over the phone. "I can't believe you said that about me," she laughed. She was speaking to me from the other side of the world, where she was enjoying the summer weather in Palestine with our mom and brother while I remained in the States. "Do you still think that?" she asked.
She had found my childhood diary in one of the drawers in our Palestinian home. The funny thing is I could remember the specific instances that led me to think that of her. My sister had an innocent face, one that hid kind of mischevious action that she may have committed. For example, she was the messier one of the two of us when we shared a room, and yet her expressions always made her appear as though she could have never done such a thing. As badly as I wanted a sister, the 5 year age gap between us often sat among us in our room, divided us at the dinner table, hovered above us when we tried to do something together.
Now it's years later, and I can't help but smile at my honesty in my diary, as though I really thought no one would ever find it. But I also find myself reflecting on how much we've grown, not just individually, but as a pair.
So, here's my letter to her:
Dear Sister,
We used to have matching bed covers and matching outfits. You only ever played with the toys I played with first. Actually, you hardly played with toys at all if it wasn't the two of us playing together. I remember when we used to play in the yard. You always played the eldest child, and I was the mother of you and the other 6 of our stuffed animals. I used to hold your hand when we shopped with Mama, and we would pretend that I was the "Mommy" and you would tell me what you wanted me to buy you. I used to carry my purse with me in one hand, just like Mama did, and held onto your small hand with the other. I told you, "Never let go, or you might get lost."
Our hair billowed in the wind as we drove around the neighborhood in the pink Barbie car we had. You always ran for the passenger seat, and never fought me to drive, even when I asked if you wanted to. I would check your imaginary seatbelt and say to you, "Never let go, or you might fall." Just like that, we drove through the neighborhood and were recognized by the neighbors as the "kiddos in the Barbie car." I would tell you about how much fun it would be when I'd get my license and a "big car," how I would take us out to Dairy Queen and buy you what you wanted. You would smile, and in that moment, I believed we would drive together like this forever.
As we've grown older, I became less available, less free, less fun. In college, my friends recognized your humor and asked me to invite you along to hang out with us. At first, that five year age gap shared our fries with us and made its presence known. But somewhere since then, it started to hide in the background and watch from a distance.
Many steps in my life I've taken have been with the idea that you might be inspired by it too, that maybe you would look at it and say, "hey, that's my sister!" But I also found myself wanting to sheild you from some of the harder things've encountered. I wish I could protect you from friends changing on you and leaving you behind, hard classes or strange teachers, or even prevent you from arguing with your own younger sibling.
However, I will say that I have gotten emotional quite a few times today thinking about who you are and who I have as a sister. At 17, you are strong, mature, brave, courageous, beautiful, and everything I wished I could be at 17. Before you became 17, you performed a spoken word with me that I could not beat at 22. Your creative ideas sometimes make me want to hide my own. I have noticed that my friends are drawn to your relaxed and charismatic personality, MY friends. But I am proud.
I am proud and sad and nervous and excited and bursting with joy. When you were gone for 2 months over the summer, I understood what it meant to have you in my life. You relaxed me and made me laugh. You turned on my favorite show when I needed a break. I have found you in moments when I have felt alone. You've let me sit in your room without needed to say anything, and when I needed to speak, you listened and gave me advice that I did not know you had in you.
I spent so long worrying that you would let go of your older sister at some point. Maybe you'd find someone else to look up to. But now as I think of all these moments, as I have been shaping myself to be an older sister who could be there for you and encourage and inspire you, you have been transforming into the younger sister that is all the things I am not. You are better.
Soon, I will be moving onto the next chapter in my life, which will most likely put some geographic distance between us. I promise you that I will never let go. I hope you still promise never to do so either.
Love,
Your sister
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