Vron: "Is that my sista?"

my sister
went home on saturday.
she was here for two
weeks.
before that i was in england with her for two weeks.
we can spend
a lot of time together
and still it's not
always enough.
she is ten years
younger than me which gives me seniority.
when she was a child i was married and then she became my babysitter/personal assistant.
she helped me bring up my oldest son. i was barely a child myself and had no clue. having a younger sister gave me a pair of hands; someone to rely on. and she was just a kid but she never complained. she was glad to do it and always wanted to know what she could do next.
she pushed his large silver cross pram to the corner shop and back tho' she could barely see over the handlebars. then more times than not, she'd have to go back again, cos i'd forgotten something, or take him for a walk around the block while i did something else. she stayed the night with me when m.o.h. was on nightshift and i was afraid of the dark. her presence made me feel braver and less alone.
in ways too numerous to mention she has always been there for me.she was always there for our mother who had a very difficult life.
when my sister's own marriage and children were young they were playing second fiddle to parents with problems. a mother with dementia and a father who didn't have a handle on life.
she sailed through all of the storms, and there were many.

she handled it all and made the decisions that needed to be made because she was the one that was there and had to make them.
she loved hard and laughed hard when she could.
she never doubted me and always deferred to me.
i'm not sure why.
i don't know who she thinks i am, but one of these days she might find out and then where will i be?

she is a 'go to' person. she loves people just because and has an unfailing loyalty.
she believes in God and she loves Him and He loves her back.
she will cry when she reads this.
but as she reminds us; 'it's good to cry.'

she's right.

'wor vron.'
'aunty vron.'
'lady vracca de burg.'

walking up and down the alleyway with a lace curtain on your head and high heels clacking on your small feet, chanting, 'princess margaret. princess margaret."

my little sister.
my big sister.