I don’t have a sister. But I feel that I do.
Brick and I have known each other since, well, birth. Her birth to be exact, since I’m older. I don’t remember that, but I do remember my dog eating her birthday cake when she was 1 years old. And I probably don’t REALLY remember that but have seen enough of the pictures to believe I remember it.
Our parents rented the same beach house together every August and when the landlord sold it, they bought a beach house together. Technically my parents have been in a group beach house for 50 years (and y’all wondered where I got it from!).
We then started spending the entire summers at the beach, so Brick and I shared a room and I felt like I had a sister for the summer. It was awesome.
Except when she would get mad.
Whoo boy, when that girl would get mad it was something. That was the Italian side of her. Once she got so mad at her dad she pulled the sink out from the wall in our bathroom. She’d get mad and put on a pout face like nobody’s business. I saw that pout face on one of her daughters this past weekend and I inwardly laughed and in my head said “uh-oh! I see trouble ahead!”.
Aside from our “sister summers”, our families would also spend many vacations together. Now that they owned the beach house, we’d spend Thanksgiving and Spring Break down there. And back at home we lived close enough to spend Christmas Eve together.
They were family. She was my sister.
I’m not sure what a sister relationship feels like, but I think it probably feels like the one I have with Brick.
She’s as loyal as any sister could be. That girl knocked a guy backwards over a table in a bar for me. That’s right- knocked him right the hell over. Poor fellow didn’t know what hit him. A tiny feisty part Italian, that’s what. He’d made some extremely rude comment to me and Brick wasn’t having any of it. So she pushed him. And he happened to be standing right in front of an apparently not very stable table, and over he went.
It was spectacular.
We were roommates for 2 years before she met the love of her life and future husband and went with him across the country.
We drove cross country together when she moved out to California. She’s the one that suggested we make the detour to see the countries larges meteor hole. She’s the one that nearly got us attacked by wild turkeys somewhere in Texas.
She was there when, while at the Grand Canyon on our trip, I got the call that my grandmother had passed away. She treated me to dinner and we relayed memories of my grandmother. Because since Brick is my “sister”, she of course knew Granny. Granny always had popcorn balls for Brick because they were her favorite.
I was there for her when her grandmother passed away. Okay, I happened to call her to tell her how sorry I was (she was on vacation in Hawaii) and left a message. Then got a call from her family friend saying “but don’t tell Brick because they don’t want to tell her while she’s on vacation”. I then spent the next 2 hours frantically trying to make sure she didn’t get the message. Didn’t work. I sucked. But she understood.
She’s the first person I called when I got engaged. She was my matron of honor. I was her maid of honor. We both gave each other rockin’ toasts. Sure, I let everyone know about her gross leaving tissues all over the house habit and she teased me for my taste in guys before I met my husband, but isn’t that what sisters do? Tease each other?
She was the first person I called (other than you mom, relax!) when I found out I was pregnant.
I save vacation time every year so I can spend time with her and her family.
My girls call her Auntie and her girls their “cousins”.
When I look at my girls now, the same number of years apart as Brick and I, I think of the relationship I have with Brick and hope they have as wonderful a sister relationship as we did. And still do.
And since I’ve known her since birth- which was exactly 40 years ago today- I feel it is okay for me, her sister, to say:
You’re old! Welcome to the club!
Oh, and I love you and stuff.