I was driving home from work when the song Zombie by The Cranberries came on, you know the song we choreographed horrendous dances to every summer at Grammie’s? It was when the part of the song came on that we always slammed our heads back and forth too, the part that made our necks ache the next day- that I found myself flooded with emotions, and I couldn’t hold back the tears. It was then that it sunk in that we don’t live together anymore- that I can’t just crawl into your bed when I’m having a bad day, and that the only person I let braid my hair is a two hour drive away. Sisters are a funny thing. You’re the only person in the world who I can go from wanting to kill to kill for you in less than sixty seconds. You’re my right hand man, the person who talks sense into me, the person who hypes me up, my partner in crime and my best friend.

You were the only person who had my back when everyone else seemed against me. You’re the only who believes my fortune telling crystal actually works, and I know for a fact you would jump a fence to beat down the kid bullying me- because you have. You’re the person who held my hand when I got my tattoo- the same tattoo that later got you in trouble with mom and dad (Whoops- bad sister award for me!), but you didn’t regret it, you weren’t mad that you were in trouble-well just a little- you were just glad you were the person who was there with me when I got it.

You used to be so small-we both were- small enough to fit under the bathroom sink to see the Shrek snickers wrappers glow in the dark. Yet, here you are driving your own car, two inches (maybe three) taller than me, one year away from graduating High School- How? I remember as if it were yesterday driving around in the go kart with you- chasing you in it- which often got it taken from us (because you know- you could have been run over or something like that according to mom). I remember playing Barbie’s with you and jumping on the trampoline together, and swinging on the swing set dad built us on the other side of the ditch behind the white house. I remember all the times we were both too scared to get a cup of water by ourselves, so we would wake each other up and go together. I remember dirt bike racing with you- and you laughing at me every time I would crash into something- which happened very often-too often. I remember riding to Bernie’s together to get the little lip stick candies, and the forbidden by mom energy drinks because they made us do crazy things like (cough) peeing on the side of the road (cough). I remember each and every Christmas and all of our ridiculous attempts to catch Santa Clause. I remember you having to go under my insanely perfect fluffy prom dress to put my shoes on because I couldn’t see my feet over all the poof. I remember you teaching me how to punch when the girl who wrecked my relationship thought she could get the best of me (you’ve always had the street fighter gene, me? Not so much- I’m more of a Peace Not War kind of gal)- and I hit you a little too hard but rather than being mad about your bruised clavicle you were proud and felt accomplished. I remember dancing in the middle of Duval Street with you-not giving a bleep what anyone thought about our white girl dancing. I remember every failed attempt of you teaching me how to twerk because well I have a white girl booty-and well white girl booties shouldn’t twerk. Sorry Miley.

You’ve held my boobs for me to help me squeeze into that sexy home coming dress (the one dad still loathes entirely to this day). You’re the person who approves all of my photos before I post them on any social media- always thinking in the interests of how many likes they may get. You’re my real life mirror- telling me what’s hot and what’s absolutely not. You’re the only person who has never lied to me- maybe you’re sometimes a little too honest with me, but its acceptabel because we're sisters and you're allowed to be. You’re my biggest fan and I am yours- always there for each other screaming ridiculously out of support for one another at whatever athletic event the other is participating in. You get my sense of humor like no one else does (well no one else outside our family), and egg me on till the point, as mom says “We’ve crossed the line”. Foohh the line? Me and you- we love to cross it. Okay? (Only you will get that last sentence.) Most importantly, you- the non-book worm (complete opposite of me who is the biggest book worm) love Mr. Darcy nearly as much as I do. This is how I know there wasn’t a mix up at the hospital- that you might actually be my sister (mom is going to hate that I wrote that).

I have the most memories with you. More than any other person in my life. You are a huge part of not just my life, but of me as a person. You, just as much as mom and dad, helped mold me into the person I am today, and the person I aspire to be. I don’t know nor want to imagine a life without you, and couldn’t even fathom how lonely my childhood (even my future) would have been without you in it. You’re the best friend I didn’t get to choose but were rather chosen for me, and I would not have wanted it any other way. God picked the perfect other half for me- the best companion- and lifelong friend. So this is to you- my best friend, my true soul mate, my sister. I love you black foot.