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by Jennifer Bowman
"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." - Barbara Alpert
There have been many famous sisters throughout history and literature - the Pointer sisters, the March sisters, the Bennett sisters, the Judd sisters, the Simpson sisters, and my personal favorite, the Bronte sisters. All of them must have struggled through so much, and perhaps the ones that are still alive still do. But I know one thing and one thing for certain: my sister is my best friend. Over anyone else, even my cat. There's something you just can't really ever admit to yourself, and that's just how much you can really love someone who's so much like you in so many ways and yet so different at the same time.
Sisterhood is a paradox - the similarities are as outstanding as the differences, which lead to even more confusion than with normal friendships. Feelings are hurt more because even though you try to deny it, you care more about what your sister thinks about you than you care what any boy in the entire world thinks about you. Grudges run deeper than usual simply because you realize the idiocy in actually remaining angry with someone you have to be with for the rest of your life, but you still can't help but feel angry. Everything is emotional, and something as important as family becomes inevitably complex.
Julia Elizabeth Bowman came into the world on March 11th, 1991. I was almost three years old at the time, and I really don't remember a lot. I don't know if I was jealous, ecstatic, or entirely freaked out. Eventually, she became "Julie," my trouble-making confidante and constant play-buddy, and I became "Sissy," a fearless, wise leader into the great unknowns of bushes, fields, and imagination.
She was the sweetest person ever to have lived, caring about everyone's feelings and lighting up their days. I was the somewhat clever, polite, but kind of ill-tempered child who tried to impress everyone as much as possible. I grew bitter and hateful against my sister, and for years I held a grudge, and to this day I insist that my mother and grandmother like her better because I guess they just don't understand me as well. This may be a fallacy, but I'm at least trying to prove a point.
The point is that I love my sister more than anything in this world, despite the past, the present, and the future. She's closer to me in DNA than anyone else, and that's gotta count for something. I see so many comparisons to myself, but then again, it's like a completely different person that you know inside and out. It's someone who has the potential to embarrass you completely in front of everyone. It's someone who knows you way too well, but loves you anyway. It's someone who has gotten used to all your weird habits and activities, like singing love songs to the cat or making a double-decker peanut butter sandwich to include jelly AND honey. It's a giant database of inside jokes, memories, schemes, and a general understanding of the strange grandparents and parents we share and love that no one else will really grasp. It's your other (better?) half, the only person you can really count on. And for me, it's Julie Bowman. I'm glad I'm not an only child.
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