When We Were Young

When We Where Young

I don’t remember much about my childhood. I only remember bits and pieces, most of which revolved around fights with my older sister. The normal stuff; I was always in the way, why didn’t I just leave her alone, didn’t I have something better to do? The fact was; no, she was my older sister. No matter how many times I said I hated her it wasn’t half as much as I loved her.

Five years younger and always in the way, she had her own world and I wasn’t part of it. I wasn’t quite old enough to go to school, and I only had a few friends from the neighborhood but she was really who I wanted to spend my time with. We were hardly ever nice to each other when we were together. Come to think of it we were hardly ever-spent time with one another.

There were those choice few times that were around each other and liked one another. It was then when it was the best times; those were the times after my little sister had just been born. I was no longer the baby; I no longer got everything that I wanted. Those were the times I had my own room. I was so proud of that room, I remember. That room deemed me a big girl, like my sister. I loved that room I loved being big.

There was one time; I didn’t particularly care to be in my “big girl” room. I was scared that night and I don’t remember why, but I did not want to be alone, I did not want to be a big girl. So I crawled out of my bed and went down the stairs to where my sister slept. She was never a heavy sleeper so I am sure she heard me come down the stairs to her door. She was aggravated that I had woken her, frustrated with me yet again. That night I didn’t care because she was my older sister and I looked up to her, I knew that she would protect me even if it were only for one night.

I told her I was scared, asking if I could sleep with her just this once. For the first time in my small little life I saw her soften and with a slight smile she said that I could. She ushered me into her room, tucked me into the big bed with her, and read me a story until I fell asleep. Now I can’t tell you what story it was, but I can tell you I remember the smell of her room and how the bed felt larger then life to my small body. I don’t know if I dreamt that night, I do remember cuddling with her and knowing that I was safe in her arms.

Now as I said before I don’t remember much about when my sister and I were younger and when I do remember it’s mostly sad. I think this is only one of the good times that I felt contented, safe, and happy. Lying in her arms as she read to me, my five year old face looking up to her asking her questions, knowing that she would answer them, frustrated that I just could not be quiet. Knowing at five that I wanted to be just like her. When we were younger, she didn’t know it, but then I idolized her. I think about what she’s done with her life and what I have yet to do with mine. I think about how maybe it would be safer lying in her arms, having her protect me maybe…just one more time.