As the oldest daughter who had arrived a whole year and sixteen days earlier than my sister, I treasured my ranking in the family. I was naturally bossy, so the role suited me. I always got to be the mom when we played house and could easily talk Angela out of her favorite toy.
But younger sisters have their own set of skills—she was never one to take a back seat for long. Our family lore was that her obstinance began before she was born. She was five weeks overdue; when she finally burst into the world, her reluctance to leave our mother meant her birth weight had withered to a slight five pounds four ounces. Maybe that’s what made her so scrappy.
Physically, we couldn’t have been more different. I was blonde with powder blue eyes and fair skin dotted in freckles. I looked like our father, right down to the shape of my nose, like someone had pinched it at the tip to make sure it was done. I loved anything sparkly. When Mom’s back was turned, I would wear her cat eye sunglasses and heels to prance around the house like the movie stars I saw on TV.
Angela looked just like our mom, with raven hair and mischief spilling out of her hazel eyes. She dove headfirst into everything; her lack of caution horrified me. At three-years-old, her pixie cut was the result of falling asleep with gum in her mouth, which found its way deep into her hair. After several exasperating minutes of trying to tease it out with peanut butter, Mom chopped it off. The bold style suited her. She was anything but shy— a tomboy right down to her scabbed knees.
As masterful as I was at getting my way, my sister was never tamed for long. Angela knew how to steal the show and I didn’t care one bit for it. One night, Mom and Dad had company. They called her into the living room and asked, “Angela, where do you live?
She was three, but wily.
“Wink-a-peg,” she chirped to the delight of the guests.
“Where? I didn’t catch that,” Mom’s friend crooned.
“Wink-a-peg,” she repeated, hands clasped behind her back as she swung from side to side.
I fumed as I watched her from the corner of the staircase.
When Angela rounded the stairs to come back to play, I got close to her face and asked,
"How do you say Winnipeg?"
“Winnipeg!" she said with a devilish grin.
Comments