Since my sister has moved to Japan, we’ve talked more than we probably ever have in our whole life. Stick us in the same house, and we’ll probably still beat the ever living fuck out of each other. Put us on opposite sides of the planet and we’re best friends. Often we reminisce over our childhood. She remembers things that I have no recollection of. In fact, most of the time, I’m pretty sure she’s just making them up:
Her: Remember when you gave my hamster mouth to mouth with a straw? And you did it on top of the TV because she was cold and it was warm on top of the TV (Ahh the TV’s of the 80′s. Giant wooden boxes of fire, they were).
Me: I actually sort of do remember that. Do you remember when you had a pet ladybug?
Me: And I distinctly remember being in the Best Western in Cambridge, and you accusing housekeeping of kidnapping her. And you were even more devastated when you found her legs up on the carpet. I don’t think we got any sleep that night.
Her: What the hell was wrong with me? I had a fucking PET LADYBUG. Why the hell did I think that was a good idea?
We were weird children. I remember her going through a phase where she wore head and wristbands. Refused to take them off. Either she’s now a secret tennis pro, or she suffered from some sort of disease where she had cold wrists. My weird phase was the posters of Bette Midler, along with Kirk Cameron, and Dokken on my walls (and the funny thing is, I was totally a Poison fan, I didn’t even really like Dokken that much, and couldn’t tell you a single song that they sang if you asked me today. Go ahead, challenge my Dokken trivia, I DARE you).
I want to hear your weird sibling stories. They would want you to embarrass them. Trust me.