Sisters

The thunder is crashing and I am in a full sprint to my sister's room.  Not because she is the oldest, she is actually seven years younger, no I am in a panic that only the stubborn, strong sister of mine can cure.  As I slide under the covers I can feel her smooth legs up against mine and her arm come sliding over my back with a small tap.  She never really fully woke up on these nights, but her sleepy, apathetic presence reminded me that it was just thunder, not the end of the world.
I would like to say this illustration was a one time event in my childhood, but it wasn't.  Growing up in Oklahoma thunderstorms could be our state song.
As I hear the thunder now I am reminded of how grateful I am for those moments.  Moments of security.  Being a child of so many divorces, security has always been sacred.  Having a sister provided a lot of stability.
She was there.  Bad hair, awful outfits, tearful temper tantrums, you name it she saw it firsthand and loved me through it anyway.

Thank you, little sister.  You may be hours away today, but you are always in my heart and in my prayers.