Happy Birthday Sarah

Today is my sister's birthday. For some reason, as I sit here, I can't remember many of her birthdays growing up (of course I haven't had my coffee yet). I do remember we always all felt a little caught by surprise by her birthday, as it is soon after Christmas, and the stores are generally empty of merchandise. Sarah, I will admit here in writing: we probably always did kind of gyp you on your birthday.

These are things I do remember, however:

• crying in your room, or crying together in your room
• always knowing what was happening to you without being told, and vice-versa
• watching you hurl a sandwich bag of cookie dough onto the kitchen floor with fear and awe
• sneaking into your bedroom to try on all your 1980s clubbing dresses
• the coolness of getting to visit you in AZ or Sac, all by myself
• the presents you always bought me when I was little (and still sometimes do)
• in the parking lot of Nob Hill, you saying Oprah Winfrey was gay, and mom not wanting to tell me what that meant
• your Toyota MR2
• being a cool first-grader at San Benancio, getting waved to by junior-highers
  
• having someone who knew what I was going through: knowing at what age people would separate into cliques; protecting me from friends, parents, and yes, our brother; telling me everything you knew about periods, boys, and sex
• you used to read aloud to me--Pride and Prejudice, Lorna Doone, Stuart Little--no wonder I'm smart
• feeling like I had someone who would always love me, no matter what, and would defend me to the death

Through good and bad, hurled game boards and garbage cans, I have always been glad you are my sister. You are one of the few reasons I ever think about having another child--somehow I want Selah to have what I have. Happy Birthday!