But I'm Adopted

When I was a kid, I used to proclaim that I was adopted and that my mom loved my sister more because she was her real daughter. It was just jealousy, really. Even at a tender young age, I had an overwhelming need to be important to the people I love. Being the older sister had some perks but it sure did have its downsides too. As the older sibling, you have to go first on most things- dating, getting your period, being grounded, etc. And then there is the whole issue of feeling "replaced" by your younger, cuter sibling.

On occasion, I would get into a fit and pack a little bag to run away with. Dokey, my little sister, would stand there terrified, watching me pack, fighting back tears and begging me to stay. I would proclaim that Mom loved her better and that I wouldn't be missed, which of course made her little heart break more.

I was a cruel big sister.

I would walk out the front door and then bolt down the front path, to the family station wagon where I would drop and roll under it. And hide. And wait. Moments later I would hear the door open and shut and the sound of little feet pounding the cement as Dokey ran out after me. She would stop short of the driveway, frantically calling out my name in search of me.

I would lie there, under that massive wagon in the oil drippings with pebbles pressing into my flesh and hold my breath. I felt like crying and laughing. My mischievousness would battle my guilt. The guilt usually proclaimed victory. (Thanks Catholicism!)

Eventually, she would return inside to tell our mother that I had run away. But Mom knew, even then, that I had a flair for the dramatic. It worked to her advantage that I was also incredibly impatient. I couldn't last out there for long. I grew bored and sullen when neither my Mom nor Dad came looking for me. After awhile, I sulked my way back into the house, unpacked my bag and sat down at the dinner table, defeated.

But Doke, bless her heart, was always happy I was home. She'd peer at me from across the table with sadness mixed with relief. Thanks for that sis. I'm sorry for being such a meanie.