My little sister isn’t perfect.
But you wouldn’t know that by looking at her. She got the pretty genes. And the smart genes. And the Practically Perfect In Every Way genes. Seriously. When she isn’t working as a model, she is working as a nanny; A Perfect Nanny.
I don’t think she has ever once looked up to me; anything the both of us have done, she has done better. Acting, Singing, Dancing, Jesus, Boobs…Adrienne always gets it right. She used to take clothes out of my closet when we were kids, but since college I have been the one inspired by her wardrobe, taking note of the color combos, textures and shapes. I’m grays and browns, she’s lime green and hot pink and deli mustard yellow.
And yet, we are just a like. That’s what happens when someone else has been there with you all along. We finish each others’ thoughts; erupt in the same song at the same time in the car; find the same things amusing, frustrating, rewarding. She gets it; she’s been there, too. She’s one of my kind…just prettier and with bigger tits and Jazz Hands.
…Which is why I’m lucky to have her as a sister, to have her to share the crazy childhood memories with….and there are many. Oh so many…And every time we are together, we laugh so hard we cry. We crack up about our shared childhood, what life holds today and where we’re hoping to be tomorrow. We speak with the same intonation, the same expressions and mannerisms and level of enthusiasm. We’re sisters, and you can tell.
Sisters are, of course, the only people who get what its like to be you, who know where you’ve come from, the insecurities and jealousies and dreams, because they share them, helped form them, and believe in them, too. Sister relationships are, by definition, emotionally charged: sisters know where your buttons are, know that secret code to push to get you to self destruct with a temper-tantrum rivaling most two-year olds. Sisters, if they aren’t kind, can decide to bring out the worst in us every single time. But sisters are, too, the only other people who can love you as much as you love yourself. If you are lucky, your sister is part of who you are, part of your soul.
I am lucky.
Adrienne is part of my soul. She’s not my Soul Mate; she’s my Soul Sister…and that’s even better because I never had to search for her or wonder if I’d found her. She’s my sister, she was there all along.