Autobiography Part 1

Flipping through the old dusty albums I started to ponder about my childhood. How much of it do I really remember or from what age do memories start to form? I do remember though that my dad was always the control freak, from how we should dress to go out to the way we walk.

My sis and I were always made to wear similar looking dresses as we were both a year apart and I grew pretty fast so we were about the same height. I guess my parents got a kick out of it cause it made people around stare at us with those adoring eyes and gush "they are so cute, are they twins?" The worst outfits were those princess looking ones in some kind of tulle material which were awfully prickly and which we hated and also that very odd umbrella hat which made us look like abandoned animals from some circus. You have to believe me it was THAT BAD!

I think times like these were the only time that me and my sis agreed on the same thing. We never really saw eye to eye on anything. I must have been the more dominant one or you could call me, 'the bully'.

This brings me to a particular memory. Our little brother Dennis must have been about 1 year old and she was tickling him on a high mattress. He was certainly enjoying it, exploding in giggles and when I walked into the room, I felt fiercely protective of him. At 13 I had that motherly instinct to stop what was going on, fearing that he might accidentally roll off that high mattress and fall to the ground. The consequences would have been unimaginable (or so I thought). I scolded my sis and told her to stop playing with him but she wouldn't listen and I raised my voice again but she paid no heed. Furious, I walked over to her and slapped her on the face. I don't know what really made me do it but it happened anyways and immediately she broke into tears and told my parents about it. My parents of course scolded me but I told them what happened and they scolded her too.

We had a love-hate relationship, or I guess its what people always refer to as sibling rivalry. I couldn't stand how childish she was and she couldn't stand me either. But I would always feel protective of her, such that if anyone were to bully her I know I'd stand up for her. Now that I'm 26 and she's 27 though, we definitely have drifted apart. Even though we live under the same roof, its strange but we can go on days or even weeks of not talking to each other. My brother and I always think she lives in a little bubble world of her own. That I will come to again when I tell you more about her.