“Remoted” – Day 444 (Thursday)

It’s June 3^rd and my baby sister’s birthday. Even though I was nearly five years old old when she was born, I don’t remember her as a baby. It's like I spent my early childhood in a fog. My earliest memory of S is just a vague snippet of her being toddler-ish in a playpen and my brother and our cousin catering to her every whim. If she looked at something, the boys fetched it for her. Then Mom would tell them to knock it off and let her learn to reach and grab and get things for herself.

S as a sassy kid, with our dog Colette.
I had this outfit in navy blue.

The many photos in the family albums starting when I was a newborn in Mom’s lap prove that I was a child, even though I don’t recall my earliest years. There are slightly fewer photos of my brother, and fewer still of my sister, especially without all the rest of us crowded into the frame. Evidently, by the time the third kid rolls around, the fascination with documenting every little thing is gone. 

There is a memory fragment of S being in the hospital for a few days when she was a toddler. We often had the same outfits, but in different colors. The summer I turned seven and S was two, my family went camping in Canada and S stayed with Mummu.

When I was nearly eight and S was three, my family went to Texas. In the summer. In a black car with no air conditioning and no planned stops at hotels, motels, or Holiday Inn. In those days, our car had “a hump” that ran front to back down the center of the floor. On regular days, the kid sitting in the middle of the back seat usually had their feet on the hump and was eating their knees. For the long drive to Texas, Dad cut a piece of plywood to set on the backseat floor to create a level surface over “the hump.” It eliminated the floor space, but created a flat surface for a kid to sleep. One kid slept on the back seat and one on the makeshift floor, and my sister slept in the flat space behind the seat and under the angled back window. All the way from Massachusetts to Texas and then back. Ah, the carefree days before child car seats and seatbelt laws. 

S, the cool one,
with our dog Colette.

Although I don’t remember her birth, I’m pretty sure S exited the womb and entered the world way cooler than me. While I holed up in my room reading, she was out with friends and on cheerleading squads, first for church league basketball, then later for high school varsity football. While I worried about winning spelling bees and practicing my penmanship, she cultivated social skills and formed lifelong friendships. While I spent my high school years working at DeMoulas and being stood up by Saturday night dates who never showed up, S spent her high school years working at the best donut shop in the 'burg (MaryAnn's!) and dating the captain of the football team.

All these decades later, not much has changed. She is still the cool one. She is clever and creative and funny and generous. She has three amazing, beautiful, and intelligent daughters. Her social circle is large  and for years before the pandemic, her house was frequently the site of gatherings for the Sunday football games. I keep thinking if I ever grow up, I want to be just like her.

Happy birthday S!