Big Sister

When my big sister was 18 months old, she broke out of her crib, found the diaper-changing supplies and got right to work scattering the cotton balls like rose petals and overturning the Baby Oil. She must have stood a while as the thick liquid burbled out onto the floor because three little footprints remained on the dry and porous floorboards forever after.Through the years of Mumps and German Measles, our  babyhood still in sight, the two of us would go in search of  these marks, hidden by then under a small rug.  "How could I have been this little?!” she would marvel every time.Nan was always drawn to a mystery. The Golden Arm, the ghostly voice, the getting yourself coffined and planted even though you were still alive: these were the things Nan loved and so I loved them too. But I became serious in time and bored dozens of nice boys near to death on dates with my endless talk on Life’s Real Meaning.Nan never did that. Nan was a butterfly you could never catch and pin down, a blithe spirit who even at age four would be three floors away within 40 seconds of entering  a department store.She got to live with our mom and our dad - until our dad left us for good the summer of the Baby Oil. Maybe that’s why she never wanted to find him later the way I did:  I’m pretty sure she remembers him on some level. And she is a merry soul and prefers to stay merry.We couldn’t be more different in short and yet she accepts me.  She thinks I’m crazy but she loves me anyway.  Yesterday was her birthday so I got to call her up and tell her I love her that way too.

"Hap" Sheehy and little Anne as she was then called