It's late, I am not sure if it's summer, the weekend or a school night (or where my parents were because it was so rare of them to not be home, ever)... but I can't sleep and I find myself in my sister Joanna's room. The little 13 inch TV is in her room for the night and Romeo and Juliet is on. She gets me a glass of water and lets me sit in her room for a while. I am comforted and feel safe.
It's late (and, again I don't know where my parents were because they seriously never went anywhere!), but Joanna has Mom's long, flowing royal blue Mrs. Bradyish robe over her head with a flashlight under her chin illuminating her face and she's chasing Sallie and me through the dark house. We are having fun.
It's late and we are camping. Our whole family is in the camper sleeping, but me. My throat is parched but getting a drink means waking everyone up and possibly some punishment. Before I know it, Joanna, who is sleeping next to me, offers to get me a drink. I feel taken care of. A need is met.
It's late and summertime (anytime between 1981 & 1984) and we are playing with sparklers and jumping around in the backyard with the flood lights on when Joanna offers to take us all for female* McDonald's sundaes. (This happened a lot.) I feel important and cool with my big sis in the powder blue Gran Torino.
It's late and I'm up late on a Thursday night -- too excited about Friday to go to sleep -- and Joanna comes home from working at Cowboy Grub with some tasty cheese and potato soup that she eagerly shares with me.
It's late and I'm trying to get to the MTC and lost in Happy Valley, but Joanna is there when it's time to say "good-bye" to take Mom home.
It's late and I'm on my mission. I'm a little homesick as the Jersey winter of 95-96 felt bleak, but I have a pair of birthstone earrings from Joanna (which I still wear today, almost everyday). I feel remembered.
It's late and today is Joanna's birthday. I can't be there to sing and celebrate, but I can reminisce and reflect about what a wonderful person my big sister is. She gives and gives and gives with a heart of gold. It even gets a little frustrating to me that sometimes it seems there's nothing I can give back because she is so stinkin' self-sufficient and maybe even a little private. But I can say thank you for all the clothes and haircuts you've given me over the years. All the times you've listened to me rant on the phone. All the wounds, literal and figurative, that you soothed and calmed over the years. And always just being there. Thank you. I love you.
*no nuts. (ha!)
