Deetie

How in the world can my baby sister be turning 32? How is that even possible?

I don’t remember Mom being pregnant with Kristin, but I do remember when Kristin was born. I wanted to name her “Tustin,” after the boy who lived across the street from my aunt. Cut me a break– I was about to turn three.

For the next three years, it was just Dad and the girls: you, me, Mom. I stole all the words and left you with “yip” and “moy” and “mickey.” We did “tricks” on the swingset and looked mighty dapper in our knickers and other matchy-matchy outfits. Kevin came along and we had to unite against violence, hiding in our closet from the assault of a small boy armed with toy weapons we most likely gave him. (What were we thinking?)

knickers

We shared a room growing up, my half of the room covered in Hanson and Beatles, your half in Hanson and Backstreet Boys. Kevin would whine if we turned our light on, so we’d sit side by side on my bed, reading by the amber light that came in through the window. (And now we both need glasses/contacts, so that worked out just great, didn’t it?)

You always have my back, and I’ve got yours. You’re a prayer warrior, crazy dedicated, a voracious reader, and my ultimate promoter. You make me happy, and you make me laugh. I adore you and am so happy that we survived a dozen years sharing a room. So many memories: “Princess Pat” and the Janet Jackson dance and “Hey!” from the Beatles. Glad we are still making memories today! I love you so, so, so, so, so much.

I hope you have an amazing 32nd birthday! Can’t wait to celebrate with you soon, Deetie!!!

matchy-matchy

 

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