Today is the day we celebrate the birth of one of my big sisters, Dayle. Just to make it clear she is much older than me, 22 months to be exact. It's a wonder we can communicate across that vast divide, lol.
I'm going to say some stuff that I don't usually tell people but I'll put it in writing this once and never have to repeat it again. Due to my memory issues I have few memories of my childhood but here's the highlights that have stuck with me. When we were young the three of us girls shared a bedroom. Let's just say all wasn't bliss but we rubbed along pretty well together. Once our brother Jeff moved out Joy got a room to herself and I was left alone with the crazy one. There are those of you will not believe this but trust me, that mild mannered exterior hides true evil. Dayle was a little OCD, although we didn't have a name for it back then. She loved to have a place for everything and everything in it's place. Really annoying actually. I, on the other hand, was a creative free-spirit who she thought was a messy pig. Lines were drawn down the middle of the room but I had the power of the doorway. Although I'll deny it until my dying day Dayle claimed that I made noises in my sleep. If I did it was probably my whimpering in fear of her evil. I can remember at least two occasions when a shoe flew across the room to quieten me. Then there was the pummeling. Oh, the pummeling. Imagine picking on my tiny self by rolling me across my bed and tap dancing on my back into the wall. I know there are some you who won't believe this but it's true! There are reasons I'm like I am today. But I had the power or the door. let me tell you a little story of my speed and grace against the evil Dayle. She'll claim I provoked her but I was a mere child. Let's just say I could do the fifteen stair sprint in seconds flat slamming my door upon entry to the room. Dayle's foot was alittle too close and she lost a toe-nail in that skirmish. From there we progressed to the stair dash into the bathroom. No lock on the door, are you crazy? Privacy was an illusion. Whip out the drawer block the door aaannd safe.
Then we grew up a bit and the bathroom became a bonding zone. No details but let's just say I dragged her sorry ass up those same stairs a few times to converse with the toilet. I was the responsible one and Dayle managed to survive with the majority of her brain cells. When the college years arrived and we went in different directions the bathroom was the first meeting place, drawer pulled for security, taking turns on toilet and tub right after arriving home. Tales were told, always Dayle's and secrets shared, mainly Dayle's.
Dayle seems to have lived a charmed life but having been in the trenches I know this not to be true. Don't get me wrong I've always envied and emulated her easy way with people. In high school we were only a year apart and growing up in a small town groups mixed and melded and we attended many a soiree together. Here's how it went. I walk in my few close friends greet me. Dayle steps through the door and the party starts. Squeals from all directions, the boys vying for her attention, disgusting really. I had to be the brains of the family, thank goodness this came easily.
We fought like tigers, I have witnesses ( just ask Brenda) but were true sisters in that outside the house we had each other's backs. Insult my sister and you insult me. "Yes, she does have boobs like the eighht wonder of the world but she more than that'", this said with a truly sincere tone of voice and everything! I'm not even going to bring up the fact that she hogged all the boobs in the family. God had a certain amount to distribute, I was a surprise, he had already given the rest to Dayle. My only consolation is that big boobs and the laws of gravity don't mix, heh,heh,heh.
Then there were the princess years. I blame Greg for this. He loves her so much he treated her like royalty. The week long birthday celebrations when mine was barely acknowledged were the worst. Not to mention having a hunk for a husband. Come on now, enough is enough!
Well, I think the karma train picked her up and is taking her on too long of a ride. The past five years have been a trial that few would survive let alone remain cheerful and positive through but there she is, Princess Dayle, standing tall and taking on everything that's been thrown at her and Greg. She makes me sick really, I can hardly stand to call her my sister.
So, I love you, you old bag. You have my beauty, mom's diligence and dad's warped sense of humour. The perfect package. I'm still the youngest and loveliest.
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