When I was 17 and your were 14, I hated when you borrowed my stuff. ESPECIALLY MY SHOES. I accused you of ruining those cute little soft-leather red Mary Janes I had, because the leather was mishapen and worn where your big toe stuck up. I screamed at you for using my makeup, for borrowing my tapes, for listening to my phone conversations. I called you "little girl" because I knew you hated it. I was horrible to you.
When we were young adults, I tattled on you to Mom and Dad. I hate that I did that. I know now that it was a feeble attempt on my part to make Mom and Dad approve of ME, by disapproving of you. Didn't work. They disapproved of both of us anyway. ;)
When I was 8 and you were 5, I was so proud of you. You were beautiful and meek and shy and scared. I was your Warrior Sister. I wanted you to have the headboard without the black magic marker streak. (Mom and Dad got a discount on that one 'cause it was marred.) I wanted you to stop jumping on the bed because I couldn't bear to see you get a spanking. I remember when we got separate rooms. I'd sneak into your room to play with your Barbie house, 'cause I was too old to have it my own room, and besides, *I* didn't play with dolls. ;)
When I was in 9th grade and you were in 6th, we moved back in together, to "get used to it", 'cause we were gonna be sharing a room again in our new house. To this day, I can remember the glee and sheer joy I felt. I couldn't wait to room with you.
We shared a double bed. You kicked in your sleep. I made you sleep on the outside so you'd quit kicking the wall. I don't know when it changed, but after a while, you refused to sleep on the outside anymore. Worked for me, 'cause that made it easier for me to stay up 'til the wee hours whispering on the phone. You never complained; you just snored away.
When I was in college, I was forced to move back home and back into a bedroom with you. You'd been the only girl (thus having your own room) for 2 years, yet you didn't complain when I moved in and took over. When you graduated from high school, I begged you to come to Denton. I found you a roommate and an apartment. You got a job. We lived different lives and had different friends, but I loved that you were close.
You wrote me letters. I have them still. One was written on a mountaintop in Mexico when you were on a mission trip with your youth group. It was beautiful, and it made me cry and long to be close to you. Another one came when you lived with Darren and me shortly after we got married. I was getting ready for my first girly-doctor appointment, and I was scared to death. You calmed my fears and soothed my anxiety and lessened my shame with your heartfelt words.
As adults, I've shared your pain. I've cried when you cried. I've raged when you wouldn't. I've prayed for you hour after hour. In tears, I've begged God to fill that hole in your spirit, to be the love of your life, to blanket you in happiness and contentment.
I've laughed when you laughed. I've adored and loved your beautiful girls. I rejoiced when you bought your dream home. I was heartbroken each time you moved away. But strangely, our friendship always seems strongest when we're apart from each other. Why is that?
When I came to your house in July, you let me be. I'll never forget that gift of love. I hate that I wasted my one and only visit to you in Tennessee being depressed. But I love that it was with you that I realized I wasn't myself, and to finally do something about it. You rescued me, and you didn't even realize you were doing so.
I love that I can be your soft place to fall.
I can't wait for you to get here.
You can borrow my shoes! (I wear an 8.5, by the way.)
And you'll notice that all of my shoes have a little mishapen worn spot in the leather where my big toe sticks up.
I love you!
See you soon.
Forever your loving warrior Seester,