Saturday, July 24, 2010

Sista Sista


Standing 2' tall, with pudgy freckled cheeks and a squeeky chipmonk voice to match, my younger sister looked up to me. From the day she was born I knew I had an everlasting playmate, one I could boss around and convince to do just about anything. She would play school with me, but she was never allowed to be the teacher. She would play store, but was never allowed to handle the cash. She would play house, but had to be the nanny. I wanted to be the teacher, the cashier, the mom. She just wanted my attention. So she played along.
Dara and I had a lot of fun growing up together. We coreographed dance routines and made up trampoline jumps. We wore matching outfits and shared inside jokes. We invented games, such as spoon balloon.
Dara eventually lost her chipmonk cheeks and gained a real person voice. While I always denied her the priviledge of sitting in the front seat, I always have admired her. She has a way of lifting my spirits when I'm down. She understands my personal struggles and is one of my go-to sources for advice. She always laughs at my ridiculous jokes and brushes off my moody tendencies. She's still my biggest fan.
Dares is hilarious. Shes intelligent. She always knows the right thing to say. She's athletic and artsy. She plays the world's greatest air guitar. She's not fond of children but has a passion for puppies and dogs. She's dedicated. She's already had great success in her young 18 years. She's humble. She's corky. She really enjoys her alonetime. She seldom has a bad day. She's beautiful. She dances like a fool but without a care in the world.
And while she's still my younger sister, now I look up to her.

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