When I was in the US over the holidays, I got to attend one of the games that my sister was working at. My sister is a professional cheerleader, you see, and this was the first time I would be able to see her in action, so to speak.

I was very nervous, actually-she had to be at the game an hour ahead of time, so Partner Unit and I made ourselves at home walking around the arena, checking out the shops, and indulging in a drink at the bar. We had about 45 minutes to just knock off-they would be announcing the cheerleaders (including my sister) 15 minutes before game time.

15 minutes before game time, we rushed to our completely fabulous seats, and lo and behold there it was-the cheerleaders were posted on the jumbotron one by one, to the wild cheers and catcalls of the audience. They went through the team one person at a time, and there, second to the last, was my little sister.

And-as they say-the Helen went wild.

Here was my little sister. 7 years my junior, she was always the world's most precious thing to me when we were younger. When our parents split up the second time, my mother had to work her ass off to support us both since my father decided that child support wasn't really his thing, so it was up to me to take care of my little sister more often than not.

And in time I grew to be like her second mother-putting her to bed, making dinners, spending time after school together. When my mom was dating and I was 14, sometimes my mom would stay at her boyfriend's (the man who is now our stepfather), and I used to curl onto the couch all night and watch the same videos over and over again-"Goonies" and "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom". I just stayed up watching it, watching over the house, watching over my little sister.

And when the fights would get bad between my folks as we grew up, my goal was just to get my sister out of the house. Away from it. We would shuttle ourselves in my room, turn the music up to drown out the screaming and yelling, and just try to make ourselves immune. When I was able to drive, we would hustle off as fast as possible to the local ice cream shop, making a cup of ice cream last as long as possible in an effort to dawdle, not wanting to get back to the House of Pain.

I always simply wanted to protect her from everything. I didn't want anyone or anything to get close enough to hurt her. I remember spending time dressing her up. I remember us playing "Taxi" using the porch swing. I remember giving her airplane rides out on the side lawn (wildly enough, she used to scream with laughter when I would let her go, letting her fling onto the lawn).

She was my little sister...my painfully shy, painfully reticent little sister.

Things weren't always rosy. In a tribute to the environment around us, sometimes fights would get ugly, and would get that way fast. I remember one day she flung a drawer of steak knives at me. But then another day, I remember empyting an entire rack of tupperware glasses at her. And you could never wake her up in the morning-she is one of those seriously NOT morning person types-we're talking World War III level histrionics here. We would get into blistering fights that would be all done by the time Mom got home.

When I left home at 17, my sister and I started to drift apart. When I moved back to the area, she and I had a standing Friday night movie date. We went to the films every Friday, even if nothing interesting was on. It was our tradition. We shared books and music. I stole her clothes, she stole mine.

But since I have left the U.S. we have really grown apart-not making the time for each other in our lives has brought about the loss of one of the most important people in my heart. We don't speak much, not even by email. And sometimes I find that I miss her so much that I can't stand it.

So it's at this game that I found my sister has grown into something so different. Her shyness is gone. She has gusto and bravado. She takes masses of time and care with her makeup and hair, and is hyper-conscious about her clothes. She even wears tight clothing now (so I no longer borrow her clothes-I am not about to attempt to wear an XS, thank you very much).

And during the game break, when she went out there and performed with her squad...I felt so proud of her. So happy for her, and so amazed at the person she has become. It's as though she is finally coming into her own, and I love that for her.

The little girl in the row ahead of me turned to me and showed me a picture in the program. It was the cheerleading team, and she pointed to my sister.

"She looks like you." she said softly.

I was stunned-what a remarkable gift for a little girl to have. She is only the second person in the world ever to remark that my sister and I look alike-my sister has the olive Asian skin, and I have the white-on-white European looks. But this little girl saw through color, and went right to what's at heart.

"That's my little sister." I said proudly. "That's why I am here tonight."

And after the game, I hugged my sister and listened to her talk and gossip for ages about the team, about women I didn't know and wouldn't know. But I was just so happy for her, just so thrilled at the person she had become. She had come out of her coccoon a much better person than I am, and I love her for it.

The next morning I had to wake her up, which I dreaded, knowing the row it would (as usual) induce. So I sat on her bed and grabbed her toes.

"Hey you," I said softly. "I just wanted you to know how great your game was last night, and that I am so proud of you that I could've bursted last night. You looked so beautiful, I am so proud of you."

And my very precious little sister sat up in bed, smiled, and we went downstairs together.

-H.

PS-delay of one week to my work visa. I am literally eating myself up inside with stress and worry about it.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:07 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
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