bosom buddies, friends, sisters and pals
It wasn’t until my sister was buckled in beside me — with her wedding dress laid out across the backseat of my car — that I realized we wouldn’t be living together forever. I joked that it was good-riddance, because she has thick hair that always shed and got into my fan. It made an awful racket, and drove me nearly crazy. But really my heart nearly burst to death with the knowledge that at 24-years-old, I was going to have to start sleeping in my own bed after I had bad dreams.
In 1987 — when I was in fourth grade, and Jenn was in third — the school bus rolled up to pick us up on Halloween morning. When the bus door opened, there were orange and black streamers hanging down from the ceiling, covering the entrance. Jenn walked through first, and I followed her.
Just inside the door, I realized something evil was afoot. Our bus-driver wasn’t driving the bus at all; no, behind the wheel was Dracula.
I darted from the bus, as fast as my lankly, little legs would carry me, screaming the whole way across my front yard. “Jenn, get off the bus! It’s a trick! It’s a trick!”
I flung myself and my backpack through the front door of my house, crying out for either of my parents to please come help me. Jennifer had gotten onto the bus with a vampire. Someone had to do something, and fast! I cried and cried, until my dad finally calmed me down long enough to tell me that my bus driver had just been dressed-up as a vampire. It was a costume. For Halloween.
Despite my shame, my parents made me go to school that day. It was already around the whole fourth grade by the time I got there, and I got pansier and pansier as the story was told and retold all day long. It didn’t matter, really; Jenn was my only friend.
After that I was always terrified of Halloween. When we went trick-or-treating, I always made Jenn go to the door first, to make sure no one was dressed up scary inside. And never once did she complain.
A few months ago, my sister moved forty miles away, which is the farthest we’ve ever lived from each other. It’s been a big adjustment for me; I recently paid for a haircut for the first time in years.
Last night, every time the doorbell rang to signal trick-or-treaters, I made Amy look out the window to make sure none of them were dressed as anything frightening. For two hours, she looked out the window, and then I stepped outside to hand out candy. “Is anyone scary?” I kept asking. “Is anyone scary?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so panicked,” she finally said. “It’s just costumes.”
To really understand, you would have had to be on that bus in October 1987. Or in my car in May 2003.
My sister never knew how close I was to kidnapping her on her wedding day.
Nor does she know that a teenager dressed as Dracula showed up at my door last night. If she had been here, I would have crawled into her bed and stayed the night. And I wouldn’t even have complained if her shedded-hair got tangled up in my fan.
Comments
That's the sweetest sister story I've ever heard. Read, I mean. You make me wish I had a sister.
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Um, please don't try to steal mine. I will have to cut you, and I like you way too much for that!
Posted by: shari | November 1, 2007 12:08 AM
it really is the sweetest sister story ever. Also,really funny and really sad. I've got tears running down my face for both reason.
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Sally! Where you been? Sorry I made you cry. But glad I made you laugh. :)
Posted by: sally | November 1, 2007 12:15 AM
I have to say, I do hate it when the 'scream' mask wearers come to my door...ugh.
Plus, this year I saw a 'Burger King' guy. Now THAT was freaky.
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Oh, yeah, that mask freaks me out, too. We didn't have any screamers this year, thank goodness. We had several Harry Potters, though!
Posted by: anne | November 1, 2007 12:31 AM
First, distance between yourself and your sister is definately difficult, no matter the age or the era.
Second, yes, vampire costumes are pretty scary. But even scarier? 10 year old children dressed as Hillary Clinton, just because they think it's funny. I hate to admit it, but I'm related to one of these misfits. A Happy Halloween? SO questionable.
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The real question is did you get candy. And if the answer is yes, then Happy Halloween, indeed!
Posted by: broke bertha | November 1, 2007 01:02 AM
I have a younger sister like that, too. And, I suspect that someday she'll get married and leave me. I can't imagine the day that she won't be there. Don't you love the way sisters work?
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I do love the way sisters work! And luckily Jenn didn't really leave me. She just stopped telling me when to get a haircut because she stopped seeing me every day! Lindsay, are you NaBloPoMoing? Never mind, I'll just go look.
Posted by: Lindsay | November 1, 2007 01:28 AM
I think we all know whose hair that really was, tangled up in the fan.
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Dad's rule # 1: The backseat is not a playground.
Dad's rule # 2: You don't have to tell everything you know.
Posted by: Jenn The Sister | November 1, 2007 07:17 AM
This is so sweet. I'm not sure I have any sweet sister stories. My sister still won't go in my parents' basement if the lights are off because when we were little I told her it was haunted.
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I love you, but that's terrible! (When Jenn and I were in England, she got sick, and I told her they weren't going to let her back into America because they were going to think she had the Bird Flu.)
Posted by: Jennie! | November 1, 2007 08:36 AM
What a sweet post! Be glad you were not at my house last night. It seemed that all the kids tried to be as gory as they could. What happened to sweet little faires and cute little ghosts?
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Well, at least your kid was dressed as a lovely genie! :)
Posted by: Melissa Coleman | November 1, 2007 09:12 AM
You know what's good? Sisters. You know what else is good? Living near lots of Americans who give my kids cool sweets which are unavailable here and which I pinch from them when they are at school ;)
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Where is the justice in the world that you live near Americans, and I don't get to live near any Welsh peoples! (Send me an email and tell me what American candy you like, and I'll mail some to you.)
Posted by: Clare | November 1, 2007 10:17 AM
Awwwww, I've always wanted a sister (I have two brothers) and now I want one even more. This is the sweetest post ever!
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Brothers are good! Amy has two brothers and they shaped her sense of humor, and she is like the funniest person on the planet. You can borrow my sister, but only for one day, okay?
Posted by: Bevvy/Beverly | November 1, 2007 11:08 AM
how i know we're NOT twins: my sister is a monster.
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How I know we're not twins: You are a genius.
Posted by: kat! | November 1, 2007 11:34 AM
I hope my two boys grow up as sisterly to each other as you and Jenn have been.
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Me too! (But we nearly almost killed each other every day when we were teenagers. So, um, keep that in mind.)
Posted by: peefer | November 1, 2007 11:47 AM
yeah, a genius at idiocy.
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When did they change the definition of idiocy to mean brilliance? DO NOT CONTRADICT ME. NEVER CONTRADICT ME.
Posted by: kat! | November 1, 2007 12:10 PM
Sisters are the best.
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And, in general, people named Jennifer.
Posted by: Jenn (the not-sister) | November 1, 2007 12:16 PM
My cousin is like a sister to me. I didn't get my hair in the fan, but it was always in the gravy (don't ask). She always gave me a hard time about that. Now I am a gazillion miles from her but I always smile when I eat gravy. :) Thanks for the great sister story!
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I always smile when I eat gravy, too. But that's because it is delicious! Cousins are way good also!
Posted by: Beth | November 1, 2007 12:21 PM
That's so sweet.
My girls are like that. My oldest daughter was terrified by scary stuff and my youngest was unphased. All of their traits kind of mesh. I hope they turn out like you and your sister when they get older.
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That makes me feel so good. I always thought I was the worst older sister ever for making Jenn be the brave one. And the smart one. And the funny one. But whatever, I'm the tall one! Sisters are awesome. Good for you for making some of them.
Posted by: churlita | November 1, 2007 12:23 PM
I'm glad you started all caps commenting to someone besides me. sorry kat ;)
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Sometimes it's hard to keep my excitement under wraps!
Posted by: Cousin Candice | November 1, 2007 12:32 PM
Jennie, does your basement story have anything to do with The Evil Summer?
Heather, I don't live in Wales but I do have Welsh blood. I like Baby Ruth.
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a) I almost asked Jennie! that same question.
b) Are you serious about the Welsh blood? Your accent isn't very Welsh. I am going to need Sally to confirm this story.
Posted by: Abigail M. Schilling | November 1, 2007 12:34 PM
How have I not told you I'm Welsh? I did my whole American History project in the 10th grade on my Welsh heritage.
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Nu uh, you have not. But I am excited to hear it. Did you take Welsh cookies to class? Did you take a dragon? Did you cheat like you did in Bible class? (Heh.)
Posted by: Abigail M. Schilling | November 1, 2007 01:09 PM
Yesterday I was minding my own business in the Student Center, typing away, when a HUGE man in a long white robe and scary mask came in tooting a clown horn. As is my wont, I shrank into myself to avoid notice, but of COURSE he came right up to me and said, scarily, "Happy Halloween, Kelly." HEATH, he said my NAME. Turns out it was my Spanish teacher, but STILL. Embarassed AND freaked. Now I can no longer go to Spanish.
Your story made me love you more than ever.
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I hate it when people do stuff like that. Does the world not understand that I am a pansy! But you are brave; your teacher must have been really scary. You should wrangle some extra-credit out of him for frightening you. (Not that you need it, Hermione Granger.)
Posted by: Kelly | November 1, 2007 01:25 PM
Oh, Heather Anne, I usually just lurk - that's here I've been (that and at Abigail's).
My darling daughter use to accuse me of stalking her friends (I do). So, even though we both know I still stalk, if I don't deposit evidence of my presence, we can ignore the fact that I stalk.
We're still working on that mother daughter becoming "friends" thing. ;)
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Well, I'm glad you commented! Can you please confirm that Abigail is, in fact, Welsh?
Posted by: Sally | November 1, 2007 01:31 PM
I TOTALLY cheated. How did you know?
Also, I brought "Welsh" "bread" to class.
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How did I know? You are my identical brain twin, that's how.
Posted by: Abigail M. Schilling | November 1, 2007 02:11 PM
Aww sisters. They seem nice and all. I don't want one, but I can definitely see the good qualities.
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That's how I feel about babies!
Posted by: Heather B. | November 1, 2007 03:32 PM
This made me miss my sister Angie like mad! She lives 10 hours away! Sniff, sniff.
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Twyla! Where in the hell have you been?
Posted by: twyla | November 1, 2007 04:04 PM
Abigail, what the hell is "Welsh" bread. And whose kitchen did you bake it in?
Heather Anne. I know she's a Celt (part of my gene pool) and I'm pretty sure she's Welsh too, but.... I'm still accepting that part of her.
:)
P.S. Yeh, I know that there is a strong possibility that there's some Celt in the Welsh too, but, as I've shared, I'm still dealing the Welsh...
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I don't know what Welsh Bread is, but I love everything Welsh, so I'll bet it is delicious! Maybe you should make some, Sally, and send it to me!
Posted by: Sally | November 1, 2007 05:37 PM
Awh. Sisters really are amazing. I miss babycarrot, but I am also rejoicing inside because now she is only 1.5 hours away, as opposed to the previous eight.
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Whoo! That's close!
Posted by: kerrianne | November 1, 2007 09:24 PM