It was my first trip to Atlanta with Clifford. His folks were throwing a party. I don’t recall the occasion. For them it could have been to celebrate a momentous life event or to simply celebrate the friendships they’d cultivated in their years since immigrating to the states. See, when I first met Clifford, his family had only been here for four years. They had no immediate family when they first arrived stateside, so the friendships they built were important to them.  There was one group in particular, however, that went beyond the box of “beloved friends”. Family isn’t always blood, and that’s what they were. They were family.

So when people started arriving and being introduced to Clifford’s female friend, I had already heard a lot about them. The Orffs – they were a package deal so it seemed. Three boys, the folks, Uncle Bob and Aunt Lee. They were  New Yorkers that had somehow found their way down South. I didn’t have to understand it, but as I longed for Northern conversations, I quickly accepted it (says the Hoosier umpteen years later still living well below the Mason-Dixon line). They were loud. They were funny. And they knew how to drink. I liked them immediately.

This is them (and Scott).

There was one standout among them, though. She had me at “Darlin”. Aunt Lee became my favorite person on the planet that day. Though married, she was an independent woman. She owned her own business when she didn’t need to work. She was smart, gorgeous, and so full of love – for everyone. It radiated off her in a way I can’t describe, but the moment she walked into a room, the energy changed. There was light. It was a bright light. Her smile was so sincere and her laugh was so contagious. She had everyone’s attention and we were all wrapped around her finger, yet she had no idea. That’s what made her so special.

Sisterly love.

Through the years she would offer me words of wisdom about sisters, spouses and stuff. She had a faith in Clifford and I that warmed my heart. She took me to pick out our wedding bands. She welcomed us to our new home. She suffered losses but became all the stronger for them. She was a selfless and steady rock for others over and over and over again. She never met a stranger and she loved with her whole heart.  Aunt Lee was the type of person everyone should strive to be. I can only hope to one day have an ounce of the compassion and the love this woman expressed and exuded on a daily basis.

We lose people throughout our lives. It’s just what we do. Some we lose because of distance. Some we lose because of pride. Some we lose because we change and grow. And some we lose because it’s simply their time to go.  The latter forces us to evaluate our lives a little more closely. It forces us to reflect on who we are now and compare that to who we once were, all while contemplating who we could be. I met Aunt Lee 17 years ago. My life was changed for the better for having had her in it, no matter how short that time was cut. We could never have enough Aunt Lee in our lives. Take a moment today, tomorrow, soon, to contemplate who you could be. Sieze the day, darlins. She always did.

Birthday Girl

Animal lover.

Free spiriting it since 1967 …

Much love from the only little sis wicked enough to publicly out your age.

Me and my siblings. I ‘m the totally normal one in the cute maroon coat.

You love them, you hate them, it doesn’t change the fact that they are your blood. But it also doesn’t change the fact that you can get pretty frustrated with them at times, no matter how close you are. There are spells where you want to lash out, make it a little harder on your sibling, prevent their every happiness… you know what I mean.

My younger sister and I shared a room. We shared a room till I was 16. I’d like to say there are advantages to sharing a room, but there really are none when you’re three years apart. We didn’t have a secret language nor did we bond over boys. Our relationship was one born out of annoyance. She was my little sister. She annoyed the crap out of me. And there you go. Some of it was me, but most of it was her being a little sister.

And sometimes, she was not so little doing little sister things. I know for a fact she did them just to annoy the crap out of me. So before you go feeling all sorry for her because she was younger and didn’t know better – she always knew better. Today I share one of her more infamous incidents:

The room was finally mine. We were having some stupid argument over some random thing, I’m sure. In hindsight, they were always stupid arguments. I told her if she stepped foot in my room one more time, she was going to get it. So what did she do?

First she stared. I stared back – daring her to do what I could see she was silently threatening to do. Then she did it. It was her toes. She took the tip of her foot and toe touched the carpet at the threshold of my floor. She was by all definitions in my room. So I lunged.

She could hardly turn around fast enough to make a run. I caught her right as she began to flee and pushed her out of my room. So here’s the thing. I don’t really feel like I pushed her that hard. I truly believe that my tapping her on the back coupled with her forward momentum is really what did it.

She crashed head first into our parents’ bedroom door frame with a loud crack and then collapsed to the ground with a hard thud. That’s when I had that, “sibling went too far moment” even though it was COMPLETELY accidental. I had that flash where the fear of my parents’ wrath far outweighed the fear for my sister’s wellness. Don’t judge. I think we’ve all been there.

So I did what anyone else would do in my situation. I dragged her body back into my bedroom and closed the door. As she came to, I promised her everything a big sister promises when she’s desperate to buy silence: clothes, jewelry, cds, a welcome invitation into my room whenever she wanted for a whole week … And as always, it worked.

I consider all of our altercations interactions no-take-backs on the whole. If we hadn’t had those tiffs and spats or ridiculously violent aggravating encounters, we wouldn’t have grown into the individuals we are today.

This week I’d like you to take a minute and think about some of your more tortured moments with a sibling. And laugh. And feel good about it. And then submit it. I’ll be running a contest later this week – looking for the best sibling story out there. So be thinking!