There is a quote that goes around on Facebook sometimes and it goes something like this: “Cherish your cousins because they were the first friends you ever had.”
While I have cousins and I believe this quote is true for many people, it is not true for me. The first friends I ever made were the two people who accepted me as their new little sister, albeit grudgingly on occasion. My siblings, Matthew and Chelsea, welcomed me with open arms, and sometimes it felt like we were the only ones we had.
But this post is about just one of them, as today, August 6, is her birthday.
Chelsea was my first friend in this entire world, and throughout the 23 years we have known each other our relationship has gone through peaks and valleys, and there were more than a few years where all we did was scream at each other—but she will never be replaced as my first friend and one of my best friends.
Chels, do you remember when we would be in the car for hours on end going all over Riverside and Redlands and Loma Linda and every other city in most of Riverside County for our paper routes? And remember how we would always have the radio on a country station? (You know, back when country was actually country and really good?) There was one song that we both really liked by Reba McEntire called “My Sister.” Whenever that song came on we would both get quiet and you would turn the radio up (even though Mom never liked the radio to go past a three on the volume scale) and we would listen to it. And my mind would go years into the future, imagining what we would be like and where we would live and what our relationship would look like.
The song tells the story of one sister calling another and leaving a voicemail. Honestly it is the type of voicemail I would leave you just to annoy you a little bit because I would intentionally just keep going on and on about random things. But at the end of the song, the last few lines reflect what our relationship looks like:
“It’s late and I should go,
But I can’t hang up the phone
Until I tell you what I don’t tell you enough
Even though at times it seemed
We were more like enemies
I’d do it all again
My sister, my friend”
These lines sum up our 23 years perfectly. There are times I feel like I could make way more of an effort and I fail, and there were days when I would pray that we could make it through just one day without fighting, but I would never change anything and I would gladly live my childhood and my teen years all over again.
So, you may be asking yourself why I am writing a long and (maybe a little) sappy post for your birthday. Well, first, because I am not there with you no matter how much I wish I was; second, I think words are powerful. To answer your question: I am writing because I hope to make you feel the depth of love and amount of respect I have for you, on this day, your 27th birthday.
Chelsea, you are the definition of a great sister. You are so gracious, so strong, so encouraging and so patient. I remember when I was afraid to talk to you when I was a teenager because I knew how smart and strong you were (and still are) and I did not want you to be disappointed in me about anything. If I was ever nervous to talk to you it was because I did not want you to think poorly of me or hear how stupid I was for doing or thinking something. Even though those words never left your mouth, your intelligence was always highly respected by me. You saw things and people in such a special and unique way, and it intimidated me. But I grew from having you as my sister, and you are easily the one person who has taught me way more than I thought was humanly possible.
Through your strength you taught me how to not only stand for something but to remain standing for it.
Through your love for people you taught me how to fight for them.
Through your humor you taught me how to have a good time and find humor in pretty much anything. (My friends now know that I will find something to laugh at when we watch movies…even if the movie is far from comedy.)
Through your determination and leadership you taught me that it is more valuable to be an example by being different than it is to simply be like everyone else.
Through your resilience you taught me that even a crippling disease should not and cannot keep you down for too long.
Through your intelligence you taught me that some people will not always know how to act or speak around you but that is nothing to be ashamed of.
Through your respectability you taught what a respectable life looks like.
Through your confidence you taught me how to be a confident woman even in moments of crisis and freaking out about the unpredictability of life, especially life as an adult.
Through your fearlessness you taught me that it is okay to take a leap of faith even when you do not know what is waiting for you when you land.
As you have gotten older, you have grown so much emotionally, spiritually and mentally. I have always looked up to you, but I think in recent years we have learned to look at each other as equals, a sort of looking to the side instead of looking up. I am proud to be your sister, and there are a billion other things about you that I appreciate. You have always been the epitome of what it means to live a determined yet quiet and respectable life even when it does not suit the people around you. And I appreciate how constant and consistent you have been as Chelsea, my sister.
God knew what He was doing when He created us to be complete opposites, which makes sense considering how long it took to figure each other out. But like the song goes, I would do it all over again—I would live every bit of our childhood all over again, as long as you were by my side.
You are and will always be my first friend.
I love you, sissy. Happy birthday!