Hey, Sis

Dear Nae,

You have definitely taken adulthood to another level after your marriage. You’re a mommy-to-be, but before you came to this point, not too long ago, you and I were just kids. Now, you’re about to have a kid of your own!

How well do you remember listening to the songs Daddy and Mommy played while on trips? I recall car adventures with a soundtrack. Riding around South Jersey with Mom, and Delaware with Dad, we listened to a list of songs that shaped our childhoods. With Mom, it consisted of cassettes of gospel music recorded when we sang in the choir so many moons ago. John P. Kee and New Direction ruled the speaker system. In later years, Daddy would play CDs of Hezekiah Walker and Sounds of Blackness. Even as I grew up to be an Objectivist, and therefore an atheist, you still recognized and accepted my decision.

It’s just amazing how we have grown. You are a superwoman in my eyes. From those melodious treks around the various towns to our lives as adults, we’ve supported each other through it all. You graduated college with honors, and have excelled at life like the dynamo you are.

You inspire me to continue doing my own work. Your life is unfolding like a woman who is flying high on her own mind.

The most important thing you have taught me as my older sister is to take life seriously, but still have serious fun. Do you recall the time when we were stuck in an amusement park ride, suspended over the ground like a tin can hanging by a string? I was shaking in my boots, but you and our older sister displayed composure and strength. Once we were finally released from our tin cage, a wave of relief washed over me, but you still seemed together and calm.

Although Mommy and Daddy didn’t work things out in their marriage, you still had a glow of resilience. In the most dire times, you’d find hope in the situation. This was no more evident than when Pop Pop developed the cancer that would soon claim his life. You cheered him up in the hospital when you said he looked like a chipmunk when he ate.

Moments like that make you a “shero”in my mind. You take on every task, and shoulder every burden with all the wit and wisdom that comprises your being.

You are older than I (and I had to remind you!), so you were the defense system against neighborhood bullies. You’d quickly say, “You can’t talk like that to my brother!” or completely dismiss the little street urchin altogether.

Whenever I had a new girlfriend, I would go to you to talk about her and seek your approval. I thank you for your beneficial honesty about some of those young ladies.

I remember I was frightened of lightning and thunder, and you’d let me sleep in your room on the floor during storms. Now, I, a 6’0” United States Marine, should be embarrassed to point that out but it is true.

When Daddy broke his leg twice, you were like a nurse who did everything she could to ensure he was comfortable. From extra pillows, to bringing him meals, you certainly showed your love for him.

Your caring and ability to empathize knows no bounds. On the tenth anniversary of Mommy’s death, you picked up your phone and called to see how I was doing. This profound gesture of a sister’s love resonates with me to this day.

I remember in high school I’d say, “Hey, Sis,’” in my dorky way and you would still respond to me. It meant a lot that I could count on you to be there for me at school, even though we only attended together at the start and end of our time there.

In so many ways you have stood as a stalwart in my life. In all the situations we have struggled through, you have always shined. Thank you for being Wonder Woman, not just to me, but to everyone you meet. You’ve always had a buoyant attitude, even when you’ve scolded me. When we bumped heads it was only for a few moments. I love the way we could have a heated argument and then end up laughing about the latest hip hop news right after.

These are my thoughts about you as you’re about to become someone’s mother. You even cut up at the way I asked how you tell people about your unborn child. I said, “Do you say pregnant, expecting, or with child?” You nearly laughed me out of the kitchen. “‘With child?!’ What is this the 1930’s?” I had to laugh, too.

Thank you for all the advice, guidance, and approval you’ve shown me throughout the years. I appreciate you more than you know, and more than I’m able to capture in these few words.

Love from your bro’,

Skylo

P.S. Kudos on landing that job. It looks like you’ll be a working mom soon, too!