Say hello to good times

Miranda turned 20 just two days ago. My baby sister. Wow. I still remember the day she came home from the hospital, and I may or may not recall the hour she arrived in this world. I remember when Renee was born: Something about being in a hospital, Ramblin' Rod on the tv, blood (so much blood!), my mom screaming. I thought she was dying. For some reason I was allowed in the room during the beginning of her labor, and it scarred me for life. I wasn't yet 4 and I already knew I never wanted to have children.

With Miranda it was only traumatic after she came home. My grandma was over that day, which is always a special event. The two of us walked to the end of the road to meet Joseph being dropped off the bus after kindergarten, and when we got back to the house there was a baby. Another one! I was not pleased. At the time my mom wasn't much older than I am now. Yikes.

Now I look at my youngest sister and am amazed. I can't believe she's not a teenager anymore, that she is technically an adult (and has been for a couple years now). She seems so young and fragile, and yet at the same time I watch her handle situations with an air of maturity far beyond where she used to be. I'm proud of her -- of both of my sisters, really. Neither of them will likely ever understand the depth of my feelings. There are still times I worry about them being out in the world; it's like I fear they will get stomped on, crushed, or taken advantage of, and I want to do everything in my power to stop it from happening. Obviously I can't, not always... All I can do is love them.

And so I will.