I was a little older than six
when you came to us,
ruddy cheeked
with a shock of curly hair,
tiny fingers that wrapped
around my pinkie
and squeezed
happiness into my heart.

You were (and still are)
the epicenter
of the world forever changed.

To be honest,
my childhood began with you.
I don’t have any memories
of being anyone
before I was your sister.

I know you will say
that’s just because I’m dumb.
That’s not the case, idiot.
Mom always tells me
that I was a lonely child,
neither sad nor shy,
just content playing by myself.
I choose to think
I was waiting… for you
to join the fun.

And what fun we’ve had!
Making up dance routines
to our favorite songs;
Smuggling snacks to bed;
Adding new levels
to invented games.
Remember “Sleep, Sleep”?
Competing to see who
could pretend to sleep
without moving the longest –  
I’m sorry I tricked you, boo.
I knew you would drift off
and I’d be able to read in peace.
You caught on soon though
and I had to think of other ways
to keep you still.

So I began reading to you
from books I loved,
stories and poems,
of adventures so epic
they called the magic to the skin  
and you listened,
tickled pink.

You listened, enthralled,  
to the gibber jabber
I came up with on the spot,
often asking for more.
To this day, you listen
and pay heed
to every word,
every notion
like it is really worthy
of your attention.