Sister

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1087 WORDS

Sister

Kara Howland
Eng 11
February 12, 2002
My Sister
Relationships between siblings can be very confusing and filled with emotional obstacles.  Sharing the same blood type and genetic material does not ensure a lasting and loving relationship.  However, with the right amount of sensitivity, and a whole lot of humor, these relationships can grow to be the most important in one’s life.
For example, my sister and I had a relationship similar to the landscape of the Rocky Mountains: peaks so high that one would believe us to be best of friends and valleys so low we can actually feel fire and brimstone scorching our toes.
The first time my sister brought her boyfriend home, I showered her bedroom with filthy, smelly clothes, including her undergarments.  Imagine her surprise when she opened her door and laid eyes upon her own dirty laundry.  I knew she’d be mad, what I didn’t know was that she would react like a teased bull chasing a red cape.  She charged at me like I was a vault in the Olympics, and she was one point away from the gold.  Suddenly out of nowhere came a broom handle to my abdomen.  Broom abuse or not, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Another time, I just wanted to hang around with her and her friends.  Being six years old, the eleven-year-olds seemed really cool.  That day they were riding dirtbikes in the woods.  One would think the bugs and the loud engines would turn me off.  No, not me, I wanted a ride.  I begged and cried and pleaded until finally some flame-haired boy offered me a ride.  What a mistake that was!  I have never been so scared in my life. Leaves, dirt, and trees whizzed by me at what seemed to be ninety miles an hour.  Thoughts of slamming into trees and pieces of my head joining the leaves littered my mind.  Never have I been so happy to touch ground as I was when the ride was over.  With tears dripping down my face and my knees shaking so badly I could feel it, I asked my sister to please walk me home.  Laughing wickedly, she said, “NO” and continued with her fun.
After the bike incident, on a cold, anxious Christmas Eve Night, my sister and I singing and dancing around the tree, couldn’t calm down. We had been told several times to stop running and jumping around.  Too much excitement got to us this time. We ended up playing a game of tug of war with our bright-lighted tree.  After a few yanks here and there, down came the tree, crashing down like a twenty-foot wave, sending several little colorful, sharp, glass ornament pieces everywhere, blowing out almost every bulb.
Being sent to our room for what seemed to be forever and of course on what had to be Christmas Eve, we had somewhat of what a “moment.”  We talked about if we could only listen and get along with each other, rather than always disagreeing and arguing.  Then we definitely wouldn’t have been in this mess at all.  We wouldn’t have both felt as bad as we did towards our little brothers and our family.  Having no Christmas tree (well a very mangled tree) on Christmas Day wouldn’t really bring the Holiday spirit to anyone.  We apologized to everyone including each other, and made a promise to never fight again.  
Nine years later, my sister, heaving with sobs, told me that she was pregnant.  She said she couldn’t dare give up her baby, but at the same time knowing keeping it would change her life forever.  I told her that she was stupid and was making a huge mistake, having a baby now would be extremely tough on her as well as on our family.  I had never been so disgusted and disappointed in my life.  As much as we didn’t get along, she was my sister, and I looked up to her.  I didn’t want to have to see her struggle and ruin her teen years.  
What a different feeling I experienced the day my perfect nephew was born.  All of a sudden this beautiful little baby was in our lives and my sister became a mom.  Boy

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