Hey Sis,
Have I ever called you that before? I think somewhere along the lines of calling you annoying and bossy I never remembered to call you “Sis,” but you are—and always have been—the best sister a girl could’ve grown up with.
I was reading an online article titled “An open letter to my little sister” and realized of all the open letters I’ve seen, I’ve never seen one addressed to someone like you—a big sister. And quite frankly, I think I know why: little sisters—like me—often forget how important big sisters—like you—are.
If it weren’t for you, who knows how long I would’ve went without wearing the “right shade of lipstick for my undertones.” But really, of all the things you’ve taught and told me, I don’t think I ever did thank you.
When I started struggling with mean girls in middle school, you were always there. Not quite like Mom though, moms never really understand teenage drama, ropen letteright? You hugged me after school and bought me ice-cream, and on some nights you let me sleep in your bed, as you whispered, “this always happens, trust me, it will be okay.” And I did, I trusted you, and you were right. You saw me in tears, in pain, in love, and at times in frustration. You were there every second of the way.
When everything changed in high school, you remained a constant; you were always my biggest supporter. Unlike Mom, you knew how tough that AP Lit class was, and when I received an A, you had the biggest smile on your face; you never did allow a chance to tell your friends how smart your little sister was to pass by. You always believed in me, even when I didn’t.
When I went on my first date and had nothing to wear, you walked in with your favorite sheer blouse and told me “have fun!” That wasn’t the only time you let me borrow your clothes, even when I never let you touch my stuff. Like your closet, you always opened your heart and mind to me. You showed me unrequited compassion, you taught me the ins and outs of classroom teachers, but you never suffocated me with your wisdom; you allowed me to make my own mistakes.
In the midst of fighting over the straightener and hogging the bathroom mirror, we ended up at two different universities. For the first time in my life, you weren’t physically there, but you let me know you were only one phone call away the night I called you at 2am inaudible through the tears and hiccups. The hallway between our rooms may have turned into dozens of miles across the state, but you were still there listening to me cry under stress of grades, boys, and expectations.
Katie sisterWhen I was abroad in South America and then in Asia, you were the one who stayed up at odd hours to exchange just a few messages. While Mom and Dad were mostly concerned about my well-being, you asked me about intimate details that allowed me to cherish some of the best moments. You told me that I was blessed, that you were proud that your little sister was experiencing the world as you crammed for your Biology final. Even under the stress of your very important exams, you were more concerned about my joy.
We don’t fight as often anymore; no longer do we care about who gets the best parking spot or who gets control of what we watch on Netflix, but instead our talks have circled more around our futures. I may not know who I will be in four years or what degree I will have, but I know when I walk across that stage receiving my diploma you’ll be the loudest to cheer. I’ve never told you this, but you’ve always been my rock.
sam sisters
By the way, I’m sorry I stole your baby doll with the purple dress when we were kids. I’m sorry Mom always took my side saying “you’re her big sister, you can share.” I’m sorry I never told you how thankful I am to have you as my sister.
Love,
Ree
