Happy Birthday, Karen

40 years ago

I was 2 years and 3 months old when Mom and Dad brought my first sister home from the hospital.
I said, “Put her shoes on so I can play with her!”

Look at that sweet face. Just as sweet, all these years later.

The things I always say about my childhood are that she was my first and most loyal friend and playmate, even after I told her to jump out of a tree because I’d catch her, then didn’t.

Nowadays I usually remark that she works a lot harder than I’d even consider, has many skills — being a great cook among them — and that she is one of few who can be trusted 100% with a secret. Also, that she would always have my back, I have no doubt whatsoever.  And she’s always up for anything — not that I often (if ever) suggest doing something out of the ordinary, but you have, Joan, haven’t you? and she never declined. And she’s generous and would give me the shirt off her back, as the saying goes. Plus she laughs at my wisecracks, even when they’re not that clever. She gets me. It would be easy to go on and on about the wondrousness that is Karen, but I do have to get dressed sometime today.

Having her for a sister is a blessing, as it is to everyone who knows her.

We shared a hot beverage when I stopped in to see her after work yesterday, as is my habit most Tuesdays. I asked when she’d be kid-free (she’s got two of her tiny-tot grandchildren living with her three days a week) so I can take her out for a birthday lunch.

“Maybe sometime in May?” Because when she has kid-free days, “I want to get things done.”

She looks a bit frazzled lately, as you’ve a right to when you’re SIXTY-THREE OH MY GAWD and looking after on-the-go, hungry, thirsty, tiny, diapered tots for days at a time (and nights, let’s not forget the nights) and getting nearly enough sit-down quiet time nor sleep as an old lady might benefit from. What am I saying — for one day! But that sister of mine, she just keeps on ticking.

Not that Karen ever sits down anyway.

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April 2005 journal:
When a friend of Mom and Dad’s died of cancer some years ago, she was in a coma for several weeks and Mom told her three daughters that the sweetest sound their mother could hear would be the sisters talking together in her room.