Mindy is my ‘twinkie’, or so I am hers. As my oldest sister, she loves the savior and is my example, everlasting and enduring, my secret inspiration. Growing up, I never knew of her faults, her grief, her trials, her pain. I only knew a sister who adored me. When she came home to visit, she always made me feel as if I was the one person she came to see. She taught me to crochet and inspired me to be creative. She spent personal time with me and when she returned to her home, she always sent me birthday cards or letters and I always knew she cared. My sister taught me of marriage and motherhood through subtitled photos of her own growing family. She spoke often about being a mother and I always knew her joy in being a wife. As I grew older, I learned that my sister did have faults, trials, and tears. My sister had fear and regret and heartache. And although she seldom expressed these emotions, my sister finally became real to me, and I admired her more. Mindy never talked badly of my trials, she never looked down on my consequences, and she never let me fall without a place to land. Throughout my adult years, I have learned to laugh with her about our mother's habits that we have reluctantly received and I have learned to cry with her about our personal failures within our own growing families. Mindy has comforted me through personal depressions, through life-wrenching choices, and through the loss of our mother who had only recently become my closest friend. Mindy is my light, my shield, my angel and my comforter. Mindy is my unwavering sister.
Jennifer is my newest and longest best friend. She is my rock and my pillow, my trusted ally, my sealed diary. As my sister closest in age, she taught me of relationships, of trust, of devotion. She understood my burdens, both severe and childish. She guided me through life and as children, she held the master key to our future. Without her, I surely would have crumbled. She showed me the art of ‘trash digging’ and how to safely climb down our chimney and onto our roof, although I never succeeded with the latter. She would embarrass me at times, but also recognized my horror on those mornings when her slumber party woke up before me. She didn't gripe much either when we slept on our uncomfortable 'air mattresses', even though it was my fault, and she even learned to stop complaining when I came home with a spot every time I borrowed her clothes again without asking. She taught me about fashion and makeup and when my hair broke off from an over processed perm, she was there to comfort me with an illustrated birthday card. We rivaled and loved, yelled and comforted, and in the end, she moved to the attic. Yet I was still welcome. When my mother was on vacation, Jennifer was there to take me on my first tampon run, explaining the pros and cons, making me feel excited about my new found maturity. Jennifer is my big sister and knows her role well. She is my soul mate. She is the woman I trust with all my guilt, my home away from life. She is my absolute.
Many times I have turned to my sisters for advice, comfort, or a good laugh. We have endured childhood together and are continuously trying to endure motherhood as well. My sisters have picked me up and carried me throughout my life without complaint and have succeeded in mastering my devotion to them. They have taught me to become the woman I am. Our mother showed us that respect and friendship are the keys to sisterhood. I believe in eternal families and am forever grateful to be sealed to such remarkable women. They can call me Betsy, Baby Betsy, Betsy Wetsy, or Elizabeth. Whichever they choose, I am honored to be their little sister. I look forward to spending the rest of our lives in friendship and hope to always dance together when we are old and fragile.
