observations on life

My sister. An essay.

My sister, Roxie, is the most level-headed, calm, dispassionate person you would ever want to meet.  The exact opposite of me.  She considers what she’s going to say before she says it.  She doesn’t complain.  She doesn’t have tantrums.  She doesn’t yell.  Unlike me in every way.  How did this happen?  I don’t know why she got ALL the self-control, and I got none, but there it is.  And she has migraines and osteoporosis and a bad back and had asthma when we were kids and every other crappy thing you can think of.  And she’s still, you know, not pissed off all the time.  Like I am.

From the time she was in high school, she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous.  If you didn’t know her then, but do know her now that her hair is turning gray and she doesn’t wear her contacts anymore, you might not know that about her. Yes, she is still very beautiful.  But younger, and even not-so-young, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

And she’s smart. Damn it. She’s one of the smartest people I know, or have ever known.  She knows everything. Somebody doesn’t know something?  Ask Roxie.  She’ll know.  It’s almost demoralizing.  She’s already forgotten more than I know.

I got her a birthday card once that said, “You’re smarter than me, you’re better looking than me,  and you’re older than me.”  Inside it said “I win.”  It’s the only thing I win at, being two years younger.  But I would gladly be two years older if I could be the person she is.  I know this sound really sappy, and normally that’s the last thing I would ever be.  But I can’t think how else to say this.  She could probably think of something, though.