Today is my big sister’s birthday. Shhh. Don’t tell anyone, but she is SIXTY years old today. How did we get to be so OLD? ðĪŠ Happy Birthday Bonnie! I’m getting treatment at MD Anderson today. This is her birthday present… live to see another day. She is in Ohio and we are in Texas. If we lived closer she might be here with me, laughing about memories of childhood. Or, I might take her to dinner.
I guess this blog will have to suffice.
One of my earliest memories in life starts with my sister Bonnie. I was about a year old. Our parents were entertaining company downstairs, and I was playing upstairs. According to the story I’ve been told, I got into my mother’s dressing gown, then tried to come downstairs in it. Tangled in the sea of material, I fell down the entire flight of stairs (that part I remember). I would have cried if it weren’t for my siblings.
It is interesting how certain images are so vivid in my mind. This memory is one of them. I can still see my sister Bonnie’s three-year old face peering around the corner of the stairs, a worried and inquisitive look on her brow, checking to see if I was alright. That look was comforting.
Then came my five-year old brother, racing in his little red fire truck making siren sounds, “rrrrRRRRRrrrr, Gotta take her to the hospital. Gotta take her to the hospital. rrrRRRRRrrr.” He made me smile, laugh even.
Two years were between each of us. Shawn was first, and then Bonnie, and I’m the third of three. The baby. The one who wanted to be into everything her big brother and sister were into, but instead got teased, pushed aside, sheltered, and treated like all babies in families tend to be handled (or was it just me? ðĪ).
One exception was the time they invited me to watch a movie with them, and they introduced me to Carrie. Yeah, that’s the one ðģ. I was still just a kid, but they were probably pre-teens or teen-agers by now. Thrilled to be invited, yet unaware their invitation was another method of torture. ðŽðŽ
Siblings… ðð
Bonnie probably remembers their true motives. She remembers way more details from our childhood than I do. Maybe it’s chemo brain, or maybe I was just too young at the time it happened. Or, maybe I’ve tried to block that one out. Who knows ðĪ·ââïļ? (Shudder….)
I do recall our mother walking into the room and asking what we were watching. They probably gave her some lame story about a teenager who was growing up. Or something like that. I’m sure she and Dad would not have approved us to watch that movie if they knew what it contained. (I hate horror movies to this day. That particular one left a bitter tasting pill in my mouth.)
I remember when we were just little tykes running around in our PJs. We always shared a room growing up, and got to know each other pretty well. Yet our rivalry was a bit like The Queen and Princess Margaret (can you tell what series we are currently watching??). I’m pretty sure she was The Queen in our household. She was the one in charge. I got to play and be a kid, while she had to act more like a grown-up. It must have been a heavy crown to bear.
They also did due diligence as the older siblings to protect me. It was their job. If I got in trouble, they got it two or threefold. They may have felt it was their right as older siblings to torture me ðĪŠ, but no one else better try! Bonnie may have been a bit mischievous as a kid, and even mores as a teen (I could tell you some interesting stories–I’ll spare her the embarrassing details ð), but she looked out for me.
Having Bonnie in my life has given me many fond memories. I can’t imagine life without her. Happy birthday sweet sister!
I got my bloodwork done, put cream on the port, now I’m waiting to go back. Almost finished with this blog when they called my name.
à la prochaine … until next time.