My Sister's Lessons

By Erica (Age 14, St. Paul's)

When I turned seven, I began pestering my parents for an addition to our family. One minute I would whine for a Labrador, the next moment a cat, and sometimes I would even ask for a lizard or a rat. However, the patronizing replies were the same every time: Dad’s allergic to dogs, Mom hates cats, and over my dead body am I going to allow a lizard in my home. Period. Since my helper wouldn’t play with me, I had to resort to talking to my stuffed animals and myself when I got bored. The problem was, I wanted company. I wanted somebody to share my toys with, to read stories with and to play dress up with. So when my parents asked whether I wanted a sibling, I said yes quickly without much consideration. At age seven, responsibility was a vague concept to me and the idea of having a sibling simply meant having a playmate. However, little did I know that this ‘yes’ brought me a lifetime of love and annoy.

Originally, I was given the honor of naming my sister. However, after too many failed attempts and disapproving sighs from mom and dad over the weird names that I had chosen, they decided to call her Bernice. I was in charge of name-calling, but that’s another story. The name Bernice can be dated back to the time of 40 AD. She was the daughter of a man who was killed by an angel and was the mistress of numerous kings. That’s a pretty weird origin for your child’s name. However, it also means victorious in Greek, which is the most puzzling part. The only things that my sister ever wins are arguments and fights with me. And that’s because I purposely let her win. She taught me how to hold my tongue and swallow the sharp words I was about to blurt out. She taught me how to forgive and to ask for forgiveness.

Another thing that my sister taught me was sharing. Not only sharing toys and the TV, but sharing mom and dad. After spending half of my childhood basking in the love and full attention of my parents, there was suddenly someone else whom they love dearly. There was this person that they will dedicate as much love to as they did to me and obviously I was jealous. I didn’t like the idea that there will always be somebody else on their minds and in their hearts. For a few weeks, I would constantly glare at my sister with burning hatred and loathing. However, I soon realized that this was ridiculous. Of course I would have to share my parents with her and in fact, if they don’t even love her, I should be scared. I soon realized that I didn’t have to share my parents' love with my sister; their heart simply grew bigger to contain the both of us.

My sister also possesses the uncanny ability to make me feel guilty even when she was the misbehaved one. Every time after a fight, when I see her teary eyes and hear her pitiful sobs, I just simply had to forgive her. If you can stare into those eyes without melting, there's something wrong with you. The way she sees the world is just so simple. A butterfly or a bird can make her happy for the whole day while we’re blindly chasing fame and fortune. The world is such a beautiful place through a child’s eyes.

While I’m not ready to burn all of my Justin Bieber posters and CDs just to show my love for my sister, she really changed my life. She taught me how to love, to share love, and to be loved. She can explain problems that take me ages to solve with that simple mind of hers. Some day I’ll throw away all my Bieber stuff if she wants me to; but right now, she has to put up with a crazy sister who randomly dances to 'Baby'. But when you come to think of it, that's not actually a bad thing.