I'm squirming on my back, apartment grade wall-to-wall burning hot into my shoulder blades. Pinned beneath the weight and will of a 54-pound Know It All, I'm at the mercy of my big sister and self-appointed Boss of Me, in her estimation a God-given right by virtue of first birth. Her hands lock my wrists, her knees dig into my elbows, my chest becomes her bony throne. She's impassive for my need to breathe.
I squinch my eyes shut and thrash my head from side to side. Her face hovers inches above mine and she takes careful aim, a thread of spit hitting the side of my nose before trickling off my cheek. Amidst my shriek of disgust she laughs, a victor, releasing me on her terms…a childhood scene to be repeated.
Thirty-five years later she'll apologize for this and her accumulated sister transgressions; but in only the way a younger sister can understand, I bear no grudge and need no vindication. I sense her need to clear conscience, though, bearing imaginary weight for the pain she inflicted on me. I extend forgiveness to absolve her guilt.
It makes me sad my own daughter has no sister and equally thankful my boys have a brother.
* * * * * *
The beginning of a series only because I have morning plans and no time to complete my thoughts. I'm prompted to write after my sister suffered a severe compound fracture yesterday, sending me into a nostalgic memory spiral. She fell and broke both bones in her arm near her wrist, requiring surgery and a hospital stay to monitor pain and prevent infection. After going through a minor-in-comparison version of this with my own son, I know what she has in store and I hurt for her! Thanks in advance for your prayers for her!
