My first memories of her have blurred with time, but only slightly. I can still remember standing outside her hospital room craning my neck and standing as tall as my five year old tippy toes would allow as my Mom went inside to hand deliver the Barbie I chose for her. She loved Barbie. I loved Cabbage Patch Kids and all varieties of human-like dolls. So at her house, I'd spend time playing in Barbie's dreamhouse and at my house, she'd play Mama and house with my many dolls with all the enthusiasm she could muster.
I remember Friday night sleepovers and oranges dipped in sugar. I can see Brownie uniforms and friendship bracelets and heart necklaces: one half for her neck and the other for mine. I remember the Babysitters Club and Beverly Hills, 90210 and the many packages of VHS tapes she sent to me when my new town didn't yet "get" the Fox channel.
I can conjure images of her meeting "the magic rag" too early with my Grandmother. I remember so many birthday parties, but one in particular where we all dressed up in our Mother's clothes and had tea. I remember school and homework and being in the same class and not. I remember fighting and I remember making up - boys and drama and laughter and tears.
I remember leaving her behind to start a new life and thinking there was no way I could survive it. And I remember that I did survive it, mostly because she helped me. I remember 8 years spanning high school and college and hours spent on the phone to connect our experiences. I remember road trips and visiting her and getting to know her new friends and her new life. I remember a summer in the woods and her somehow managing to teach me the importance of commitment and follow through and self awareness amidst bug bites and snakes and camping and lots of whining young girls. And I remember (with equal parts pride and laughter) that together, we pitched tents, packed overnight bags for 11 and cooked mac' n cheese in the great outdoors.
I remember embarking on a new life with her - throwing caution and fear to the wind and taking our youth and our enthusiasm and our spirit West. I see laughter and tears and fear and hope and joy and dismay in those years. I know for sure that there was no better partner to transition to adulthood with. That she has been the perfect balance for my life and that she alone holds the keys to every life phase, every experience, every emotion I've experienced. She has been there for it all. And I'm a better me because of it. Because of her.
I see so clearly her constant courage, endless kindness, enviable confidence, enigmatic spirit. For 25 years she has inspired me and challenged me and infuriated me and awed me and buoyed me and loved me. And I couldn't express in a thousand lifetimes my gratitude. Or what an honor it is to nurture and continue this sisterhood.
I recognize the blessing of seeing 5 year old girls giggling and laughing juxtaposed with 5th graders rocking out to New Kids on the Block and then young women on their wedding days, holding tight to each other as life began anew with destined partners. I recall the past and I see so much of her, just as I look to the future and she is there. Where I need her to be. A beloved, treasured, incredible sister of the heart.
I saw Bride Wars today, and while the movie itself is pretty schmaltzy, all I could think of was the parallel in the most influential relationship of my life. And I was inspired to somehow honor it, so I came here and documented a small snapshot of our story.
Ash, this one is for you. With all the love in my heart.
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