When I was four years old my mom and I would
pray before I'd go to bed. And every night I would pray God would give me a
sister. Mom would remind me to stay open to the idea of receiving a baby
brother, but I would not comply. I would have a baby sister, and I did.
As the oldest, I was first to pioneer
life. I taught Cora all I knew, how to tie her shoes, how to open an
umbrella, and how to ride the slide into the pool. I was always the Captain of
our ship, and she the First Mate. When I established the first small city on
our driveway, she provided the chalk. When I decided to ride my bike along
the inner coastal, she had Dad pull her alongside in the red wagon. I never
embarked upon a journey without my sidekick sister.
I remember the first time Mom brought home a bra
for Cora. I laughed, how could she ever need one of those? Cora inherited all
my clothes but it never occurred to me why until one day instead of looking
down I stared Cora in the eyes. Where did the little kindergartener with the
big bouncy bow disappear too?
As Cora matures, I am astounded by the speed of
my own growth. Today she is still by my side, longing to be the first
mate of my "grown up" adventures. She corrects my driving, drags me
along shopping, and still asks me to open her umbrella.
We will always play a significant role in each
other’s lives but I have ventured upon a threshold where Cora cannot follow me.
I am shopping for a bridal gown now. I've stuffed, licked, and addressed
at least one hundred wedding invitations. And even though my time has been
packed full with wedding details my mouth still drops open when I am
reminded Cora is twenty-three. When did I stop being twenty-three? How can I be
so used to remembering her in diapers? Now I understand a little more how my
mom feels when she says she can't believe I'm grown.
We all stand in awe of the change in each other.
We are each other's measuring sticks. We speed through life a bunch of sleepy
heads packed into a bus simply watching the scenery wiz by. We need a
jolt to shoot us out of our seats and propel us to leap out of the bus.
Cora has developed from a kindergartener into a
young lady. I have grown from the toddler to the bride in the mirror. I do
not know why Time trickles through the fingers, but I will not sit and watch it
float away. Let me run, not away from time but deeper into it. I may not be
able to out run time, but who says I can't enjoy the race?
