Thank you for being born 4th and not 2nd because someone like me had to be the older sister and clearly with my bossy nature I’m better equipped to handle that responsibility. Thank you for always being so agreeable whenever I made you eat something, wear something, or say something you didn’t understand just to get a laugh.
Thank you for being 3 inches to the left when I launched that baseball across the yard to our middle brother because if you had not been 3 inches to the left I would have creamed you in the head with that baseball and you might not be as smart or musically talented as you are today.
Thank you for making that mix tape we used to listen to as kids when we shared a room and accepting Mickey Dolenz as your boyfriend just so I could have Davy Jones as my boyfriend while we watched Monkees reruns on Nickelodeon after school.
Thank you for tolerating the fact that I have recently started introducing you as my older sister to strangers just to see the look of confusion that crosses people’s faces.
Thank you for joining me in a perfect harmony and without question or any shame whatsoever whenever I start singing any song we loved as kids, even when we’re in front of crowds of absolute strangers.
Thank you for almost but not actually fainting from low blood sugar in those moments right before you walked down the aisle as my maid of honor at my wedding because you forgot to eat that day.
Thank you for giving me to your secret crème brulee recipe and I won’t tell anyone you don’t have a culinary torch but instead you solidify the sugar behind closed doors with your husband’s big blow torch. Oh, oops.
Thank you for setting the scene for this picture from the summer of 1990 where we’re both starring in this teen angst movie directed by John Hughes where I play the Ally Sheedy role and you’re like a female version of Andrew McCarthy, oh so cool with your knock off RayBan Wayfarers and your jean jacket slung over your shoulder and we’re bitter because our parents have dragged us on a tour of the Hershey factory and we’d rather be listening to REM on our Walkmans.
Thank you for admiring my bad perm so much that you went and had yours done too year after year after year between 1985 and 1989.
Thank you for making me laugh every single time I talk to you on the phone like last night when we each described in detail our five step technique for the perfect sprayed teased permed 80s bangs.
Thank you for starting the anti birthday card tradition between us where in years past I’ve received ‘Congratulations on your Godchild’ and ‘For the High School Graduate’ cards instead of an actual birthday card. I treasure each one.
Thank you for actually listening to me when I talked you into moving to Sacramento just so I could sleep on your futon with the lumpy mattress when I came home from the law library and listen to your pregnant cat bellow all night on the deck. Because let’s not forget if you hadn’t listened to me, and I hadn’t suffered the sounds of that bellowing pregnant cat, then you never would have met your wonderful husband and so now I’m taking full credit for all of your happiness.
Thank you for taking that impromptu trip to NYC with me five years ago and for allowing me the great pleasure of taking you to Tiffanys and Bloomies and we talked and laughed so much we were hoarse and could barely speak on the plane ride home except to bust out into random songs from when we were kids. And why have we never taken a picture of us together since this one from 2006? Hmmmmm? Your fault.
Thank you for always being supportive and bragging about me to perfect strangers. I could never do that. Thank you for being the strongest woman of faith I know and for reminding me time and again how very weak and flawed I am. You’re really good at that.
Thank you for not caring when the kids interrupt me five times in five minutes when I’m on the phone with you and for listening to me vent about things that bug me and always keeping my confidence.
Happy Birthday Sis, I love ya as much as I loved my perm in 1988.
Your *younger* sister,