This isn’t a story about a little girl who refused to turn three. Or about how her grandma celebrated her sixth birthday twice with identical strawberry shortcake cards.
It isn’t about a girl who kicks and punches and flails in her sleep. Or about why she thought stapling her older sister (twice) would have been a good idea. Or what gymnastics is like when instructors don’t carry you around. It isn’t about how she likes her hair stroked or how she flings herself onto your lap when she’s sad or how much she hates socks.
Instead why don’t I tell you about how Laura sweet talked her way into allowing a waitress to accept our food vouchers to pay for margaritas when our flight home was cancelled a few years ago. Or how she lets me cry on the phone when certain Saturdays seem particularly shitty. What about if I told you about how she greets me at the airport with Starbucks and the camera flipped to selfie mode.
Or that one time we sang Call Me Maybe and What Makes You Beautiful over and over again on Hwy 99 on the way back from Whistler?
What about that one time she stepped in a paint tray while simultaneously signing along to the Jersey Boys soundtrack and trying to do a long pole (lacrosse thing) demo with a shower curtain rod?
Want to hear about our yearly sister trips? The highlights include 6 hours at Fenway through 2 rain delays and boycotting deep dish (which, eww) in Chicago in favour of California Pizza Kitchen and finding an Olive Garden beside the Target and the soggiest shoes and the best burgers on the beach in Vancouver and the ferris wheel at dusk and the Jays beating up on the Mariners (and it not raining) in Seattle.
And then at the end of an impromptu beach photo shoot, we sat facing the ocean and she put her head on my shoulder and it was kind of the best moment ever.
All the stories end the same way: I kind of have the best sister in the whole world. She’s funny and a sweet girl and makes me do things I don’t want to and moved to Alberta just so we could climb mountains and eat Cactus Club and Jelly Modern.
And somehow, she’s not keen on being 29. I have a feeling she’s still down with us celebrating in BC in a few weeks….