I’m thankful for my sister. Like my son, she’s been both a colossal pain in my behind and a source of anger, pride, disappointment, joy, amusement, awe and many other things. I was 13 when she was born and raised her at times. Sometimes the line between sister and mom-figure are blurred and it causes friction, but whatever we say or do to each other we know we love each other. We trust each other.
We get on each other’s nerves….
She’s matured and become a source of pride (not my doing but a collaborative effort between me and someone I considered another sister). She’s smart, a helluva writer, she’s sweet but also one of the worst people to ever cross. You don’t want her as an enemy.
I’m thankful that she’s been there for me. That she’s made me laugh and cry, and laugh until I cried. She’s gone after people who hurt me and she’s a willing partner in crime for all the weird stuff we get into.
I’m thankful that I can call her and tell her the most outlandish things and have her say: “Oh yeah!! I get that, we should do this…. or I had a dream about that.” If I call her crying her typical response is: “Who’s ass do I need to kick?” Or “I’ve got a place to hide a body…”
I’m proud of her, she’s working 2 jobs and putting herself through college for a masters or a BA or something… She’s getting a higher education. I’m going to be super jealous when she gets picked up by a traditional publishing house.
I’m thankful that she’s my friend, my sister, my daughter, my partner-in-crime.