I am a sister.
The day I became one was the first day I left the house without a doll in tow. When we arrived at the NICU, I immediately pressed my little nose and palms against the window and peered in with a bit of confusion. Three years old and a couple feet tall, I expected her to resemble one of my dolls, but that wasn’t the case. My doll wore dresses, not cords on her body and face. Mommy and Daddy gently rested their hands on my shoulders; exhaustion hung from their eyes.
“Meagan is not doing well,” they explained.
“Meagan. . .” I tried the word on my tongue.
The doctors entered behind the glass, and I watched as they began pressing buttons on the machines.
“Well, I’m her sister. Lemme help her,” I thought I could make her …show more content…
It means choosing my words wisely and my actions accordingly. Although my intentions are clear, I fear the prowling predators. Boys. My sister does not understand the danger disguised through warm hugs and smooth compliments. She fails to realize that behind every smirk lurks another intention. Apparently no one ever warned her of the stupidity of teenage boys. Their immaturity lacks the respect that my sister deserves. She is so beautiful, but cheap pick up lines won’t prove that, her older sister will. My purpose is to be her conscious when she first encounters a boy, to translate his crafted words and decipher his morality by the positioning of his hat and looseness of his pants. My instincts will sense his cheating intentions before he even utters a word, and my voice of reason will tell her to run. Run. RUN. I will save my sister from collecting the broken pieces of her heart; she has done that one too many times. From now on, I will compliment her until she meets the …show more content…
When she becomes frustrated with algebra, I wish I could hand over my brain as the answer. If it were that simple, then I wouldn’t feel guilty every time I receive an A and her a B+. If I experienced the struggle she faces every day on the battlefield of education, maybe I could give her combatting advice. When she dangles off the cliff of uncertainty and her self-esteem falls into the valley below, I want my hand to reach out and pull her back. When writing causes her to cry, I hope she understands that my shoulders are available and my arms always open. Although quiet, my voice echoes encouragement. If only she would listen. My heart cringes every time I hear her say, “I wish I could do that.” I wish she would never compare herself to me again. If only she understood the bravery, creativity, and perseverance she possesses is something I envy, maybe she would believe me when I tell her, “Oh, but you can.” When her eyes fall to the floor in disbelief, I will lift her chin until she realizes her talents are beyond compare.
I am her sister.
After fourteen years, I think I finally got it right. Regardless of what anyone believes, my sister will forever be my first priority. Through the years, I’ve made mistakes, but the lessons learned have only led me closer to the truth. I never needed an instruction manual, a guide, or the doctors. The best thing for Meagan has been there all along. Me.
“So you’re the big sister, huh?” The doctor questioned
The day I became one was the first day I left the house without a doll in tow. When we arrived at the NICU, I immediately pressed my little nose and palms against the window and peered in with a bit of confusion. Three years old and a couple feet tall, I expected her to resemble one of my dolls, but that wasn’t the case. My doll wore dresses, not cords on her body and face. Mommy and Daddy gently rested their hands on my shoulders; exhaustion hung from their eyes.
“Meagan is not doing well,” they explained.
“Meagan. . .” I tried the word on my tongue.
The doctors entered behind the glass, and I watched as they began pressing buttons on the machines.
“Well, I’m her sister. Lemme help her,” I thought I could make her …show more content…
It means choosing my words wisely and my actions accordingly. Although my intentions are clear, I fear the prowling predators. Boys. My sister does not understand the danger disguised through warm hugs and smooth compliments. She fails to realize that behind every smirk lurks another intention. Apparently no one ever warned her of the stupidity of teenage boys. Their immaturity lacks the respect that my sister deserves. She is so beautiful, but cheap pick up lines won’t prove that, her older sister will. My purpose is to be her conscious when she first encounters a boy, to translate his crafted words and decipher his morality by the positioning of his hat and looseness of his pants. My instincts will sense his cheating intentions before he even utters a word, and my voice of reason will tell her to run. Run. RUN. I will save my sister from collecting the broken pieces of her heart; she has done that one too many times. From now on, I will compliment her until she meets the …show more content…
When she becomes frustrated with algebra, I wish I could hand over my brain as the answer. If it were that simple, then I wouldn’t feel guilty every time I receive an A and her a B+. If I experienced the struggle she faces every day on the battlefield of education, maybe I could give her combatting advice. When she dangles off the cliff of uncertainty and her self-esteem falls into the valley below, I want my hand to reach out and pull her back. When writing causes her to cry, I hope she understands that my shoulders are available and my arms always open. Although quiet, my voice echoes encouragement. If only she would listen. My heart cringes every time I hear her say, “I wish I could do that.” I wish she would never compare herself to me again. If only she understood the bravery, creativity, and perseverance she possesses is something I envy, maybe she would believe me when I tell her, “Oh, but you can.” When her eyes fall to the floor in disbelief, I will lift her chin until she realizes her talents are beyond compare.
I am her sister.
After fourteen years, I think I finally got it right. Regardless of what anyone believes, my sister will forever be my first priority. Through the years, I’ve made mistakes, but the lessons learned have only led me closer to the truth. I never needed an instruction manual, a guide, or the doctors. The best thing for Meagan has been there all along. Me.
“So you’re the big sister, huh?” The doctor questioned