Writer's Block: When I Was Young
Tue, Jun. 23rd, 2009 18:02![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jarissa[Error: unknown template qotd]
When we were kids, I was pretty good friends with my sister. Some of that was helped by our moving every few years, but I think an important ingredient was that we were just different enough -- and aware of those differences -- that it helped us to see each other as truly unique individuals, not "she's my sister, she ought to be thinking just like me!", so we had a greater appreciation for our different perspectives ... and for what we did have perfectly synchronized.
I know some families have the kids pigeonholed into categories, "the smart one" and "the cute one" or "the shy one" and "the popular one". Our folks were always very good about not doing this to us. We were both smart kids, though in retrospect I think Heather has always been more intelligent than me; we were brave about different things, braver together than separately, and more likely for one of us to be brave if the other one was unable to cope.
When we were in upstate New York, there were three bullies on our bus. The one that sat up front decided to pick on one of us about a third of the way through the school year: very, VERY stupid boy. He was younger than me, scrawnier than Heather, and entirely mistaken as to the idea that "beautiful, quiet girl sitting next to nerdy, frizzy girl, both reading" must mean "easy targets".
When pestered as to who she was, Heather explained that she is God.* Naturally, I answered the followup question: "I'm God's older sister." Why are we not committing miracles to prove it? "What makes you deserving of special effort on God's part?"
We never had to compare notes, or worry that the other one might not back us up. I think the biggest rift of incomprehensibility between us was that Heather was fairly well liked by her peers, and I was very much an unwanted outsider among mine.
Our friendship kind of drifted to an end when I moved away to college, and that was almost entirely my own fault. I didn't pay attention to the fact that I was hardly ever talking with (or even to) her. One day I looked around at my life and realized that I had next to no idea what she was interested in any more, what she thought of anything, or who she'd become ... and she was a college student in New Jersey, miserable and frustrated, and I had no way to support her or back her up or even relate, really.
If I had it to do over again, that'd be one of four pieces of my childhood that I'd save. She turned into a pretty awesome adult, and I'm very proud of her.
*Catholicly speaking, this is entirely valid. God is in all people. We return to God when we die. But most importantly, Would-be Bully had no useful answer for that.
When we were kids, I was pretty good friends with my sister. Some of that was helped by our moving every few years, but I think an important ingredient was that we were just different enough -- and aware of those differences -- that it helped us to see each other as truly unique individuals, not "she's my sister, she ought to be thinking just like me!", so we had a greater appreciation for our different perspectives ... and for what we did have perfectly synchronized.
I know some families have the kids pigeonholed into categories, "the smart one" and "the cute one" or "the shy one" and "the popular one". Our folks were always very good about not doing this to us. We were both smart kids, though in retrospect I think Heather has always been more intelligent than me; we were brave about different things, braver together than separately, and more likely for one of us to be brave if the other one was unable to cope.
When we were in upstate New York, there were three bullies on our bus. The one that sat up front decided to pick on one of us about a third of the way through the school year: very, VERY stupid boy. He was younger than me, scrawnier than Heather, and entirely mistaken as to the idea that "beautiful, quiet girl sitting next to nerdy, frizzy girl, both reading" must mean "easy targets".
When pestered as to who she was, Heather explained that she is God.* Naturally, I answered the followup question: "I'm God's older sister." Why are we not committing miracles to prove it? "What makes you deserving of special effort on God's part?"
We never had to compare notes, or worry that the other one might not back us up. I think the biggest rift of incomprehensibility between us was that Heather was fairly well liked by her peers, and I was very much an unwanted outsider among mine.
Our friendship kind of drifted to an end when I moved away to college, and that was almost entirely my own fault. I didn't pay attention to the fact that I was hardly ever talking with (or even to) her. One day I looked around at my life and realized that I had next to no idea what she was interested in any more, what she thought of anything, or who she'd become ... and she was a college student in New Jersey, miserable and frustrated, and I had no way to support her or back her up or even relate, really.
If I had it to do over again, that'd be one of four pieces of my childhood that I'd save. She turned into a pretty awesome adult, and I'm very proud of her.
*Catholicly speaking, this is entirely valid. God is in all people. We return to God when we die. But most importantly, Would-be Bully had no useful answer for that.
