One Apart
She was and still is the thoughtful one and I the curious.
My sister was a kind of hero. One that you looked up to, and not because she was tall, but because she was always so accomplished.
Whatever she did it was done with great care and precision.
Planning was her way as time was organised and into things to do and done. Paper and pen, for her, were tools in a way to control and chart out destiny. For me they were to scribble tractors and leave under foot while I went on to other interests.
It must have been difficult to have five bothers especially me an unruly and mischievous trouble maker. I like to think I helped keep her on her toes. She might think differently.
One by one we all appeared. All boys. All five of us. She was by our standing the big sister, and in our eyes way beyond us in almost everything.
She had numerous talents and was good and reliable by all accounts as her teachers would remind us.
Of course we looked up to her as what we aspired to be, but were again boys with too much energy to be patient and steadfast. And that is what it took for her to make so much progress and to be so good at whatever she took on as a challenge.
As far back as I can remember we were never in competition. I had my gang, us boys, and she had the rule of the house. One might even say she was the queen and we were the bandits.
Mom and dad (notice the order, that’s how we always said it), did their best to prepare us to go through our childhood, teen years and on to adults. It must have been quite easy to guild my sister as she was like a well behaved cat. We were like wild squirrels.
In the early days both me and my sister were together with mom while dad struggled to chase the American dream. A house, a car, loving wife and children. Somewhere along the line we all had our own ideas.
Whatever my sister set out to do, she was the best. She had trophies to prove it. She made all of the honours in school and was, I think, a president of some sort. She was a cheer leader and an envy of many aspiring girls. Because she was natural. Didn’t need to pretend to be good. She just was.
There wasn’t a darn thing she wasn’t afraid to do. It must be a good thing, otherwise she would have nothing of it.
She helped others, tutored, was a camp instructor and volunteered for so many good activities and causes.
Mom and dad didn’t have the resources to help us pay for university. She worked, took loans and struggled to get her degrees and ultimately a master’s degree. I helped her a little when I was in the Navy.
She became a teacher and had hundreds of kids under her guidance. Maybe many like me and a few like her. I like to think I prepared her in ways to handle the ones like me. As a nurturing teacher, I’m sure her students have embedded her in their memories as the one who made the most impression. We all remember those teachers. She for sure is one of them.
When I was in the Navy stationed in Italy, she came to visit me and became Italian for a while. That was great. She really fit in, except for the fact that she got pinched in the train on the way down from Rome. I can only imagine what they guy got back in return.
It must have been something she expected to see, her brothers all over the planet. We were all over the house, the neighbourhood and country side.
She married a great man. Just like her, a teacher. Studious, kind, quiet but strong in character. Together they had adventures, built things and took care of family. Between them they must have generated a thousand lasting impressions embedded in adults now all over the world.
As I said, whatever she did, it was to be conquered and mastered in a methodical and systematic way. They started many years ago a fitness program. First walking in professional meets, then moved on to real fitness and finally physique training. By this time they were retired. But maybe the school days were easier?
Mr. and Mrs. Atlas physique champions in competitions. It wasn’t a shock for me. That is what she has always done and it was no wonder. If she puts her mind to something. It just gets done, and in a big way.
Our journey was long. Her’s was by a different path, but we both arrived somewhere in the same realm. Mom, pokey bear brother, and most recently dad took leave to make our family here on earth a bit smaller.
She is seemingly not getting older even though it is her birthday. We celebrate these days because they are memory builders. Not that they should replace anything of the past, but help to highlight those moments we call nostalgia.
Happy birthday sis. You deserve a long life full of joy and happiness and may the powers that would if they could, bring you more of the same.
We boys love you something really big and wonderful. You are our big sis, the one we look up to.
