Grace ~ Jeff Buckley

My older sister, Emma,  is five years older than me.  Sometimes this difference seems like light years. Sometimes it is more like:  Hey! Get out of my head! I was J to the U to the S to the T thinking that!

Por ejemplo, once when she was not living at home anymore she went out and bought this dress and miles away I was living at home and I also bought a dress and true story, we had bought the same dang polka dot dress!

Or the time I was all, "So I recently started listening to Jeff Buckley's Grace album..."
And she was all, "I've recently started listening to Jeff Buckley's Grace album!!"
But we each liked different songs off the album.

Or the other day when I sent her an email with a U2 video clip and she emailed me back to tell me that she had just emailed someone that exact same video clip.

She is one of the few people I can count on to understand what I mean when I say something is painful to watch. She gets similar feelings of physical discomfort when watching someone embarrass themselves, even if that someone is a fictional character on a television show or a movie. This might not seem of note, but I assure you that our levels of pain are much higher and our level of tolerance for embarrassment are much lower than average. The covering of eyes and cringing would make one think we are watching a horror movie. It is horrific to us.


We have the same basic level of pop culture junkie-ism. It is a fairly high level. We will destroy you in a pop culture trivia game. For reals.

We both have the same weird relationship with hugging and physical displays of affection. Neither of us are intentionally unaffectionate and yet,  you certainly can't call us affectionate either....."I guess I better hug you in case I die......"

It's funny. If you put any stock in birth order psychology, the second child goes the opposite of the first. But we aren't quite opposite. Our differences seem more like.....mutations.

If you put Emma in some sort of gamma ray flux capacitor irradiation solar pulse machine for a few minutes, you would get me. The more Type B, more dramatic, less sane version of her.

The version of our mutual DNA that says, "I hated the ending of that book!" at the exact moment that the others says, "The end of the book is the only thing that redeemed that mess!"  (The Double Bind being the book in question).

It seems like my mom and her three sisters always preached the gospel of  "Your Sisters Will Be Your Best Friends Some Day!" when I was growing up. I never really believed them. I couldn't see how the "different but the sameness" of my sisters and I would draw us together. As I got older it became not "different but the sameness" but rather "same, but with differences."  Lovely, charming, and okay, occasionally super irritating differences.

Do you know, I remember the exact moment in time when Emma and I crossed the sister/sister barrier and became sister/friends? Dead serious. The exact moment. We were driving down 55 together in her car. She started talking to me about her personal life. It wasn't a lecture or a surface conversation about pop culture. It was a rare insight into the heart of a person that few people ever get to see. And I realized at that moment, as she was talking to me, that something had shifted. I was no longer the protected and also disbarred little sister. I had been let in. I had become a friend.

Love you Em! And I am still waiting on that book to be available at the library. Read slow.