Ode to Meggarah.

Not to be confused with “meggidoo” my sister Meghan has a variety of childhood nicknames. Tweetums, Meggaroo, Meggers, etc.

Her and all of her nicknames turn 22 today. (Right? I just turned 25, which makes her 22…I hope. Me no do the matheeematicks.)

So today I’d like to compose a little something for my sister’s birthday. It’s very early, and I haven’t had breakfast yet, so let’s hope the ol’ brain is up and at ’em.

To my sister, who always speaks the truth. For the little girl that wanted to be a mommy cat so bad that we found her with a mouth FULL of fur from “grooming” her cat Tigger with her own tongue, just like a mommy cat.

To the baby who used to sit in the sink to brush her teeth. To the 5’11” woman who still would, if she thought she could fit.

Beloved friend, who put up with years of having a hurtful sister, who was hurting so much herself she forgot how to love, and be kind. To the girl who welcomed me with open arms when Jesus and I found each other again, and who never threw it back in my face.

To the person who has been my mirror, my confessor, my psychiatrist, my nutrionist, my personal shopper, who has listened to my rants on everything, and always has something smart to say.

For the girl who does calculus for fun, paints with her spirits’ eyes and sees the best in people when they can’t see it in themselves.

To the short kid who grew into the most elegant, lithe, lovely woman.

Let’s hear it for wearing your church slip as dress up clothes, thinking cowboy boots and swimsuits were a good outfit (she was 4), and topping it all off with your bike helmet. Always. No matter if you were riding your bike or not.

Here Here for Auntie Meghan, Meghan the artist, Meghan the really-well-paid tutor (tee hee, toots) Meghan the dress-up maven, and the very special title only I get to use, and also my favorite: Meghan the Sister.

Happy birthday love, You’re a stunning 22.

“I would like more sisters, that the taking out of one would not leave such a stillness.”- Emily Dickinson