[This blog entry is posted three days late because I was gone for Labor Day weekend and couldn't access it from home. My apologies.]
I was only three years old at the time, but I still have some memory of this historic day in my life (though my memory may actually be of the day after September 4). Here's what I remember:
I came home. From playschool? From my grandparents' house? I don't rightly know. But I came home. That's what I remember.
I was upstairs in the doorway to my parents' bedroom when my mom told me I had a new baby sister.
"Would you like to hold her?" she asked.
I suppose I said yes. Because my next memory is of sitting in a rocking chair with my new baby sister across my lap. My memory is of a much larger baby than a newborn, but that's probably because I was just a little tyke myself, and not much larger than a baby at the time.
At some point my mom told me that her name was Megan. I'd never heard that name before. My parents liked to give us unusual names. Of course, they had no clue that an onslaught of baby Megans, Meegans, Meghans, Meghanns, Meagans, Meaghans, and Meaghanns and would come mewling and puking into the world over the next 20 years.
I'm still waiting for "Janina" to hit the list of Top 10 Baby Names for Girls. Hasn't happened yet. Sigh.
Anyway, I could go on to tell the story about Megan and the cookies, or the story about the first time Megan said the "S" word. Or how the "S" word was one of her first words. But she's an elementary school teacher, so it wouldn't be very nice for me to tell that story. :) But I will share a picture of my sister, circa 1975.
Wasn't she cute? (She still is, by the way.)
I'll also tell you that Megan was meant to be. See, my parents didn't think they could have children. The experts told them they couldn't. So they adopted. First, they adopted my brother in 1966, and then me in 1970. So there we were ... a complete (??) family: Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, Dog (Poochie), and Cat (Wampus).
Then, against all odds and the dire predictions of the "experts," those crazy adults went and got themselves pregnant. Nine months later, we had Megan, the "surprise baby." So now Ghent (my brother) had someone besides me to torture with his tickling. So you see, I was very grateful to have a sister.
Seriously, I love having a sister, even though I was jealous of her at times, and even though I wasn't always the nicest sister. She still loves me, after all I have put her through. That is definitely a testament to her own capacity for unconditional love.
I haven't been a jealous older sister for many years now. In fact, I've spent the last 20 years looking up to her (and not just 'cause she's taller than me). She is my closest friend, and we have so much fun together because we have 31 years of private jokes between us.
We got to spend Saturday together, which was great. Part of the reason Dan and I moved to western North Carolina was because Megan lives here. So, after many years of living nearly 1,000 miles from her, I got to see her on her birthday. That's purty cool.
I am so thankful. Not only was I adopted into a loving family, but I've been able to enjoy 31 years of a "surprise" sister as well.
Here's to 31 more years. Heck, here's to 51 more years. By then, we'll be meeting each other for lunch at the Piccadilly every day. Or maybe she'll pick me up from the nursing home and drive me to the Piccadilly. Either way, we have a standing promise to be old-lady-regulars at the Piccadilly. And that's what really matters.
Hope you had a happy birthday weekend, Mu!