When we were kids my sister and I had Raggedy Ann dolls. Not just the regular size dolls, but at that time almost life size dolls. My grandmother had had a friend of hers make them for us. They were really nice and the lady who made them had most certainly put a lot of time, energy and love into making those dolls. Our Raggedy Anns went with us everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. During that time in our lives we did a lot of travelling (and by travelling, I mean we moved every two to three years due to my dad's job). It was a crowded backseat in that little Toyota Corolla. My sister, Raggedy Ann, me, and Raggedy Ann were all happily squished into the car. All that squishing, however, took a toll on my Raggedy Ann. The stuffing in her poor little neck started getting a little worn and it became hard for her to hold her up properly. I, of course, was devastated. How could this happen to my precious Ann? And, why my Ann and not my sister's? So, in a moment of weakness and extreme anger (and now I couldn't even tell you what my sister had done to make me so angry) I quietly snuck into her room and put a stranglehold on her Raggedy Ann. But, not only did I choke the poor doll, I shook her head around until her neck was just as floppy as my Ann's neck had become. I snuck back out of the room knowing that no one would ever be the wiser. I was wrong. My sister figured out that I had done something to her doll and she told my parents. I was punished. She gloated.
Today we joke about the whole thing. Always. I even gave her a plaque with a saying about sisters that has, wait for it...two Raggedy Ann dolls on it. I don't think there's a time that we're together that THE story isn't brought up by at least one of us. Which brings me to the actual story...
That plaque went into a box today. Very neatly wrapped and carefully sandwiched between some family pictures. My sister is moving. She's not moving far, just about an hour and half away, but still she's moving. I won't be able to make that eight minute trip to the other side of town to visit her. I won't be able to stop by unexpectedly. I won't be able to go to the store with her and people watch. It's going to be different. There's no way around it.
You see, sister love is a beautiful and strange thing. There's this other person who you share just about everything with as you're growing up. There's stories about boys and girls, and hair and clothes, and movie stars, and rock bands. There are stories about the time when you snuck a boy in the window while you're parents were asleep in the other room and getting drunk on prom night. And then, there are the fights. The ones where you strangle your sister's doll and you pull each others hair and slap each other in the face. And you say all those horrible things that you wish you hadn't said, but they felt so right at the time. When you finally grow up, you're there for each other when your worlds are falling apart and you give so much advice and you watch the other still do the complete opposite. But, you're still sisters. Always. No matter where you live. Until the end.
Now if only I had hid the Raggedy Ann plaque instead of letting her pack it...
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