My Sister Su

My sister, Su., is responsible for my desire to blog in the first place. When I was 13 years old I grew tired of being an only child and began to pray for a little sister. Imagine my mother's surprise when lo and behold she discovered that she was pregnant. She and my father were convinced it would be a boy, but I knew better. Then in November of my 7th grade year Su. was born. She was never destined to be a normal child....

I got married when Su. was 6 years old. She was highly insulted that she didn't get to pick out her own dress so she refused to smile in any of the pictures. To console her, our mother told her, "When you get married, you can tell Sister what to wear." To which she replied, "When I get married, Sister will be so old she'll have to come down the aisle in a wheelchair." Su got married when I turned 40. She began her first year of marriage as I was completing my 20th. She's closer in age to my oldest child than she is to me. My husband is 20 years older than hers. But still, she's my best friend.

She remains one of the most interesting people I have ever had the priviledge to know. She lives in a renovated 1920s bungalow on the Southside of Birmingham where she can be found on her front porch gathering fodder for the Great Southern Novel of all time or on the back porch where she reads books I don't have the patience for. She watches the people go by and imagines what their lives are like. How does the young mother with the rumpled little children make ends meet? Where will that old man spend the night tonight? When things go wrong, she's the first one I want to tell. She is never judgmental. "You have a warrior spirit," she'll tell me, "I'm so proud of you! You can handle it. Keep going!" Then, refueled with the belief that I can indeed handle anything, I take one more step and keep going.