So this is officially my first blog entry. It's dedicated to the sister. We've scrapped and bickered most of our lives together, since we were little and I use to embarrass her in front of her friends (not purposely, of course..)
I was the little sister who was
perpetually broke
had scruffy shoes out of which my grubby toes were always sticking themselves out,
screamed out her pet name in the middle of the school field
played with her dolls, and made them up with my markers, trying to make them look prettier
and
most importantly, made her life a living hell,
completely unintentionally!
And so we grew up, occassionally tearing each other's hair out, occassionally sticking up for the other so that she wouldn't get slapped for doing something idiotic like hanging out of the window of the 16th floor apartment!
As we grew, we became closer. Sharing secrets, which boy we liked, why, where, what, when, the works. We discussed things, we talked about what we wanted to do, we discussed the parents, we bonded on the balcony of that room we shared in Brookvale Park. We sat on the balcony, late into the night, hoping that the wind wouldn't carry our secret whispers to the Parents' room. God Forbid!

And then it happened. The sneaking around, exploring the mysterious world of Dates with Boys.
It was a big thing then, and sneaking out just made it all the more exciting. Thinking about the reason, the place, planning, planning, planning and finally, the execution. You had to plan your alibis, coach them, execute your moves, based on the plan, such precision was needed, such perfect planning, such attention to detail.
But very soon, it was all too much. The game was up once. And then twice. And I was grounded till Eternity.
Suddenly it wasn't so much fun anymore. But then the dynamics of the game did a 360 degree turn. It was not the thrill anymore. It was My Rights that were at stake. Noone could tell me what to do. I made my own decisions.

And then things changed between her and me. When we let a boy come between us, we broke one of the most sacred tenets stated in the Sisterly Friendship Handbook. Everything changed. Perspectives changed. My sister who had begged my mother not to slap me, had become my fiercest enemy. We vowed to hate each other, denounced the other. Ugliness reared its head. We shared a room, but tried desperately not to share a life.
Those were bleak times.
But they got better. Little by little, the trust was built again, the bonds tried to mend but Proximity got in the way.
We were now in a different chapter. We no longer shared a room under the watchful gaze of protective parents.
We now shared a house.
And we were all alone.

Tensions rose to the surface once again. She was too neat, I was a slob.
She wouldn't cook extra for me and I would leave dirty dishes in the sink.
I was too wayward, she was too prissy.
And thus it went on. Sometimes a Cold War, sometimes a full-blown World War, doors slammed, vulgarities hurled, each hurt, and out to hurt the other.
In the lull periods, issues were discussed, television was watched amicably, nerves were soothed with calming oils, peaceable dinners were cooked, nails were painted. Life went on.
And so many years passed, with its infamous ups and downs. Like the little girl with the curl, when things were good, they were very, very good and when things were bad, they were horrid.

Soon is was time for the sister to get married.
The wedding was quite a bit of fun. Moments of tension peeped around the corner occassionally, but were shooed away rather easily.
It was then time for her to move out, start life afresh with her husband.
So I thought to myself, aah freedom at last. I get the bigger bedroom, I can leave dishes in the sink till they rot, I can leave food in the fridge till they grow legs and walk to the freezer!! What bliss!! I could throw a party every single day if I wanted to.
And then, she actually moved out.
The house was quiet, there was noone there when I got home. The familiar sight of her sitting on the sofa, eating her yoghurt or sipping chamomile tea in the mornings was gone all too soon. There was noone to chat with on lazy Sunday mornings. Noone to bitch to. Noone slamming doors. No noise unless I made it.
It was strange. Not as much fun as I thought it would be.
Suddenly I wanted her back, but of course I couldn't tell her that! She had her own life now, I was still in it, but barely, by default.

Then the visits started,we met up, hung out like normal friends, we were quite a happy trio, at least I thought so. Me, my sister and my brother-in-law. We were all the family anyone of us had in this country. We started to meet every Sunday fro lunch, when I was lonely, they opened their home and their hearts to me. I stayed over with them; it was nice to feel part of a family unit again and it was so nice to feel close to both of them. I was so touched by their gestures - asking me to stay over, making dinner for me, watching tv through dinner and before bed was so much fun. Just sitting with them in their room, chatting till we all got too sleepy to speak coherently, was such a joy. It was just nice to have them around. It was nice to feel that we got along again, that we could be friends without getting at each others throats all the time.

Then, all too soon they decided to move away to Canada. So so far away.
To Be Continued  ¶ 10:20 pm