In Which I Celebrate

Today is my older sister's birthday. I write this story in honor of her, and for reaching the ripe old-age of 24.

My older sister Maria* and I never really had much to do with each other, despite the fact that we did a lot of the same activities. For that I think there were times when she resented me, because she wanted very much to be her own person. She had her own friends, and almost made a point to make me an outsider at times, but there were times when she came to my aid. Growing up with her was an experience all to itself, and when thinking of my childhood, I have one prominent memory of her. Read on...


In high school, Maria and I both were in marching band together. We both played the saxophone, which always put us in the same section on the field. Since she was older, she was always trying to tell me what to do. This went far beyond being helpful... She was downright bossy. I couldn't seem to do anything the right way, and while I was willing to learn, hearing my sister mentioning loudly that I was doing things wrong didn't feel too good.

The incident in question happened after a long, difficult, day on the practice field. It was hot and humid, and I was frustrated with having to repeat the same section over and over again. Maria and I happened to be right next to each other at this particular part of the show we were rehearsing. On what was supposed to be our last attempt for the evening, our director stopped us and pointed out that I had been out of step. From behind me, I heard Maria snicker to her friend:

"Figures. He never does anything right."

I was instantly furious. I had put up with her snide remarks and hurtful comments all day, and I finally had enough. I spun around on my heel and faced her.

"What did you say?" I asked angrily.

"Nothing. It just figures that you'd be the one to screw up."

That hurt like a slap in the face.

"You're not perfect. You're just a... a..."I said, my anger causing me to stammer.

"A what?" Maria asks expectantly, her lips turned up in a smirk.

My mind raced to think about what I could call her that wouldn't get me grounded (again).

"You're a four-eyed... supreme... know-it-all!"

Maria's friends, who had been watching our verbal exchange, started to laugh. Despite being called one of the lamest insults ever to be uttered, Maria started to cry. I couldn't believe it.

After practice was over, my parents got wind of what happened. Even though Maria was the one saying the mean things towards me, I was the one who got into trouble for making her cry. I think she knew all along that if she played it up, she would get away with her dirty deed, thus leaving me holding the bag for the entire incident. I don't recall what my punishment was, and I didn't know enough to file a retrial.

Her sense of humor has improved greatly since then. So, I call her a four-eyed supreme know-it-all every now and then, for old time's sake. It is as funny now as it should have been back then.

Happy Birthday, Maria.


*Not her real name.