I was fourteen and a half when heaven finally granted my wish for a sister. She was, by far, the most precious little being I had ever encountered, so I took all of my wannabe-mother, giddy-teenager, impelleded-by-cute tendencies out on her.
I dressed her up like she was my doll. I photographed her like she was a model. I sang to her because she couldn't escape it. I sat her on my lap while I played the piano. I cuddled her, rocked her, soothed her and even napped with her in my bed.
Then she advanced to walking, opening doors, and climbing on kitchen counters. I forgave her when she left cartons of ice cream melting on my bedroom floor. I didn't complain too much about her getting into my things. I didn't hold the broken belongings or missing pieces against her. I treasured the scribbles in my books, drool on the hardcovers, torn pages from my scriptures, smiley faces in my journal. They were evidence of my sister; evidence that I had a sister.
I had a sister!
Though it wasn't exactly as I had envisioned --sharing secrets and clothes, enjoying music together, liking the same boys, and having the same friends-- it was different in a good way. I learned something about patience and I laughed a lot. There was a keen sense of satisfaction in teaching her new things, helping her walk, improving her vocabulary in sometimes humorous ways, watching her discover the world. There were special experiences wrapped in witnessing her growth and being a part of it in a way that not many siblings remember. It has been the opportunity of a lifetime to be Olivia's big sister.
And now she's thirteen (THIRTEEN!!!), as creative as ever, perceptive and mature, brilliant, intelligent, talented, and growing ever more beautiful. To make Livi's birthday a little more memorable, her favorite niece arranged to turn her own thirteen on the same day (thirteen weeks that is). So happy 13th to my sweet little sister and my lovely little baby!
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