I was 5, just about to start Kindergarten. Mom was working nights, Dad had just started at Indiana University in the Special Education department. Mom was so tired all the time, but she held it together. I remember being happier on the days I had to stay home while mom slept than the ones going to daycare. I loved looking out the window and trapping the cat under the laundry hamper, and sneaking cartoons. We had just finished dinner. It must have been a night Mom didn't have to work, or she had changed her schedule by then, I don't remember. "Come sit down at the table, sweetie," Mom had said, "We have something to tell you." I remember how big she was smiling. "You're going to have a baby sister or brother!" She beamed. Dad smiled, too. His hand was on her shoulder. I looked Mom up and down and declared, "But you're not fat!" Thankfully, our parents worked on my tact enough to make me a functioning adult.
Mom went to the doctor and got an ultrasound - a girl! I was so excited, and was also convinced that it was a girl because I wanted a sister. Boys were gross and wild and mean. Girls could play Barbies with me! I told all my friends at school and at daycare.
We were in the hospital. Mom was in labor. I didn't know what that meant, only that Aunt Sue made me go to the waiting room to color by myself, but a nice nurse brought me a PB&J on white bread with no crusts! But then someone came to get me, and I got to see you be born. And you came out and you were all slimy and covered in "stuff" and you were purple. I was scared, but Mom and Dad were laughing and smiling and crying, so I figured it would be OK.
You got sick. You stayed in the hospital for a long time. If Mom and Dad were worried or scared (now that I'm a parent, I know they were), I never knew it. They were strong. Everyday I would ask if it was time to bring you home yet. I drew pictures for you. I saved Barbies for us to play with together.
We brought you home in our Toyota minivan. I had to sit in the "way back" because of the car seat. Or maybe I chose to.
All of our family came out to see you - Aunt Sue stayed for a long time, and I remember getting in trouble for interrupting and asking lots of questions. I was confused. Usually, family came to see me, but sometimes I felt invisible. But when the adults were talking, or setting up dinner, or just plain busy, I would take your bouncer into the kitchen, or onto the landing near the stairs, and sing to you, my baby sister. I would hold your little fingers and sing Twinkle Twinkle or something from my Wee Sing Bible Songs cassette. And you would smile, just for me.
Grandpa and Grandma Sprague came for Easter that year. I got mad at Grandpa for a whole day because you would laugh at everything he did, but nothing that I did, even if I did the same thing as him. They stayed home the morning of Easter Sunday. I think Mom's excuse was that they didn't bring church clothes. Really, they were hiding the eggs for when we got back.
Grandpa Jay came out to baptize you. I don't remember how old you were, but I remember it was a beautiful sunny day, so it must have been springtime.
I was almost 8, and you were almost 2. It was our last Christmas in Indiana. We pulled out all the ornaments, and after Mom said, "Remember this one?" to me a few times, you pulled out each one, pacifier in your mouth, and gleefully asked, "Mememer dis?" And every time you did, we laughed, so you kept doing it, your giant beautiful eyes gleaming.
It was my 10th birthday. We were at the breakfast table, early, to open presents. I had asked for a specific American Girl book for my birthday. You have never liked surprises, I have always loved them. I picked up a rectangular present. "I think it's an American Girl book," you blurted. I knew that was what it was, but you had said it before I even started unwrapping. I cried.
It was your 7th birthday. Mom and Dad had gotten you a bike and a kitten. The Hamrens had kept the kitten in their downstairs bathroom all night the night before so we could bring her in for your birthday morning before school. She was scrawny and black, from the humane society. You named her Princess. I made a gagging noise, and got in trouble. Princess was a royal pain, so I guess you got the name right.
It was a weeknight, sometime after the holidays. You were somewhere between the ages of 5 and 8. Jerry used to have this really nice camera, and he brought over some pictures of you that he had taken at our last holiday gathering. The photos were in stunning black and white, clear as true life. You were jumping on their bed. Your hair was flying all around, and your smile was pure bliss. You were ecstatic. When I think of "Little Sarah," I think of those photos.
I was 13, and my first boyfriend was in our house for the first time. We went up to my bedroom to get away from "my loser parents," but the rule was that the door stayed open. Fine. We were in my room talking for about 10 minutes when you came upstairs, plopped down on the landing between our bedrooms, and proceeded to stare at us for the next 2 hours. To this day I'm certain mom and dad put you up to it. I don't blame them. I'll do the same thing with any younger sibling Olivia ever has.
I was in college, you were in high school, I think. It's summer. We go on our family trip to Italy and Spain. You have been suffering from debilitating migraines, and the medications you take to prevent them make you sleepy and cranky, which is a bad combination with general teenage angst. Some days Mom, Dad, and I go out and experience Europe without you. But there are moments, when it's just you and me, that I will remember forever. We went shopping together one afternoon. Got paella together and practiced our (terrible) Spanish and thought we were so sophisticated. Later that night we took a series of selfies that can only be labelled as ridiculous. Before selfies were a thing, we did that.
You were in J2A, and I was a chaperone. We were in England. I got to be there while you experienced your pilgrimage in some of the same places I experienced mine. I watched you make memories with your friends and grow in your spirituality and strength. And sometimes, you would let me be a part of that with you, and I was so thrilled. And so proud.
You were a junior, maybe a senior in high school. I was working and living with my boyfriend - fiancee? I don't know if we were engaged yet. You called me from your friend's house: "Can you come over and help us do our hair and makeup for prom?" I tried to be cool. "Oh, yeah, I can do that. Sure... I just have something to do before I come over, but I'll be there soon, OK?" I forced myself to sit at home for 30 minutes before heading over so I wouldn't seem desperate. I was over the moon that you and your cool friends asked me to come help you.
It was summer. I don't know which one, or when. We were in the car, singing to Jesse McCartney at the top of our lungs, windows down, hair flying. We laugh, and laugh, and laugh, then we go down to the river and put our feet in, and talk about who knows what.
It was New Year's Eve. We were in Oceanside, and we had to leave the next day. No one else wanted to go to the beach - it was like 50 degrees in southern California, for Pete's sake! But you and I went down together, and watched the sunset. I took a photo of you, feet in the water, silhouetted against the ocean.
It was this past June. You graduated from college with 3 degrees. Three! You were always a better student than me, but the weight of just how good really set in at that moment. You nailed that shit! And you did a semester abroad. And you worked a lot. And everyone loved you. I remember thinking how much you reminded me of Mom with your work ethic.
It was September 27th, 2014. You stood by my side with Rob and Mom and Dad when my daughter was born. In the middle of labor I remember seeing your face and hearing your voice, and being so glad you were there. You held my hand. You immediately loved my daughter.
It was the end of Winter Break. I was about to go back to work, and I was scared. You were on vacation with your boyfriend, who I adore, and I'm so happy you met. You sent me a text late at night: "I'm listening to Sean-uh Paul. There's really nothing like it. Jamaica meets Hip-Hop." I laughed out loud at your reference to our inside joke from years ago. You thought to text me while you were off living your wonderful grown-up life.
It was Tuesday night. You came over to help me when I had gone back to work after my maternity leave. I was broken. I had mommy guilt. I hadn't slept. I cried at work. I cried when you walked in the door. You let me. You did my dishes while I cradled my daughter in my arms, and didn't even ask to see her until I was ready, even though you hadn't seen her in over 2 weeks. You listened to my crazy talk, and encouraged me. And then you went home to care for your sick boyfriend. I wonder if you did anything for yourself that day.
Tomorrow is your birthday. You will be 23. I can't believe it. You will always be my baby sister, but I am so, so proud of who you have grown up to become. You are an amazing woman, full of beauty, grace, discipline, intelligence, power, and confidence. You are my best friend. You are a wonderful Auntie. You are Sarah Anne, and I love you. Happy Birthday.
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