17 Years and 7 Months Ago

If you just read that last post, and then re-read it, and then thought, WHAAA??? Was that about cold french fries? ... I don't get it. , then chill for a second okay. I'll explain it tomorrow. 

But today, right now,  I have to explain to you why, written on my whiteboard in blue marker, it says: Today is July 9th. 

It all started a little over 17 years ago. But even I don't remember that far back, so I'll spare you the details and take you back just 7 months instead.

December 9, 2008.

I had a news video due that day. It was about veterans going back to college. I also had to write a paper. It was about pirates. But I had a plan. 

I would blog between the video and the paper. Simple as that. 

But if you go back to December 9, 2008 there is no blog there. Partly because I deleted my blog after that date, thus erasing all previous blogs. But, more significantly, because I never wrote a blog that day. 

December 9 is my little sister's birthday. Her name is Kenna. And I love her. 

I wanted to write a tribute to her for her birthday, but somewhere between the veterans and the pirates I forgot. 

I didn't realize it until December 10, 2008 at 11:04 p.m. (or something like that). And after the sinking feeling ceased at 11:09 p.m. I started writing a belated tribute. But it was lame, and I couldn't post it, because it didn't say what I wanted it to. 

So I decided to wait until June 9, 2009 (her half birthday) to post my birthday wishes. I practically counted down the days until June 9. And then June 9 rolled around and, somewhere between Judge Judy and Two and a Half Men, I forgot again. 

So now, July 9, 2009, I have something I want to say: 

Dear Kenna. Happy Birthday. I love you. (And I'm sorry I am late.)

Growing up I had this dream in school. See, lots of my friends had older siblings who had already been through their classes. Their teachers would call them Blank's Little Sister. And I was excited for the day when my teachers would call my sister, Alec's Little Sister. 

That never happened. In fact, I'm fairly certain I am known among many teachers as Kenna's older, less amusing, less committed, less prompt, less enthusiastic sister. 

That, my friends, is called a dream gone wrong. 

But when I'm standing next to Kenna, I call myself the same thing. 

I'm not a betting girl, but I would bet on Kenna. 

I don't really know how to put in words what I think about my sister Kenna. Because when I try to write her, the descriptions seem over-the-top and unrealistic. 

And if you knew her, that would make sense. 

There have been so many times in my life when I have stood at a distance and sort of wished to be that girl. 

She has such a strong grasp on life. 

When I'm running out the door, arms flailing, papers flying, purse barely strapped to my shoulder, Kenna is walking in front of me, carrying a neatly packed backpack and holding the rest of my stuff that I don't have arm space for. 

She's the big sister I always wanted to be. 

She's the piano player I never practiced enough to be. 

She's the student that actually reads the chapters out of the history book.

She's the lifeguard that gets the "tootsie roll" out of the pool while the rest of the guards stand around and squirm. 

She's the considerate one.

She's the smiling one.

She's my sister and I couldn't have asked for a better one. 

17 years and 7 months ago, my first little sister was born. 

I think she was an apology from the heavens. They were all, sorry we sent you that first little tantrum thrower, this one will make things better. 

Dear Kenna. Thank you for making things better. Every day. All the time. 

Happy birthday. 

I love you.