A special treat on this Monday morning, a guest post from my dear sister, otherwise known as the Wife of Odie. Enjoy!
There I am, catching some much needed sleep. It’s tough being a five-year-old and you have to catch any sleep you can get. Especially when you’re the youngest child. All that adoration really wears you out.
I’m sure I was dreaming about the piggy bank I hoped I’d get for Christmas when my sleep was shattered with yelling. Yelling and dreams of pink piggy banks do not mix well.
“For the love Tracy, get out of this bed!”
Push. Push. Jab. Jab. Roll and thud. Dreams are over and I’m on the floor.
I know what you’re thinking. Well, not quite, I’m not exactly psychic, but run with me on this. You’re now thinking “this girl had a rough childhood. She couldn’t even sleep in her own bed. It’s amazing she turned so normally.”
It’s a miracle, I know.
Ok, wait a second.
I did mention that this wasn’t my own bed right?
And that I did this EVERY night?
And it must have been REALLY annoying?
The routine went something like this. Mom puts me to bed in my favorite jammies. I’m fairly certain they matched my yo-yo-a-saurus shirt I had. I wake up around scared:30 and look for solace. Solace manifests itself when I find myself crawling next door into my sister’s bed.
On a good night she let me stay.
On a bad night, well, see above.
If my memory serves me right, which is does 82% of the time; Tab let me stay in her bed FAR more than she kicked me out. And let’s be honest, I’m being dramatic here. It’s just what I was told to do in creative writing. Her yelling was more like a whimper, and I’m pretty sure she never actually kicked me out of bed.
But that’s because that’s my sister. And she’s super loving and super giving. (If you’re not used to using super before adjectives, try it out sometime. Then move to Utah. You’d probably fit in pretty well.)
My sister set the standard early on that as her only sister I was to be treated well. As in I’ll-let-you-crawl-into-my-own-bed-when-you’re-scared well. Her clothes were fair game for dress-up, much adoration was given and lots of hair was combed. But it all ended too soon when my sister moved out and gasp, became a bona fide adult.
Those 12 years between us slowed us down a bit. But one day I too became an adult and ventured out on my own. Never one to be far from my sister, I relocated to Utah to be in the same state as her.
And naturally the cycle repeated itself.
I’d come over for sleepovers when scared, lonely or needing a break from Provo. The room next door had turned into her home on Harvard Avenue in Salt Lake. Just as full of solace for me as her bedroom had been years before. Oh, how I loved sleeping over at her house! I longed for the time when I would one day have my own place all by myself like her.
But that never happened. We both continued to grow up and both moved to D.C. where I had roommate after roommate until I found a roommate of the forever kind. Those are the best kind.
Now life’s changed a bit. Sleepovers have been replaced with Sunday dinners with our husbands. Dress-up has been replaced with jewelry borrowing and style advice giving. Instead of talking about dates and school, now we talk about future babies and our jobs. Times have certainly changed. But the one thing that hasn’t is this: my sister will also be a source of solace for me.
And that my friends, is priceless.
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