Meet the family, part 2

My sister Rachel is two and a half years younger than me, and I think that might be the source of all tensions in our relationship. When she was born, as my parents have told me, I wouldn't go see my mom and new sister at the hospital. I was that angry that my mom had had another child that was taking the attention away from me. Maybe if I had been a little younger or a little older, I wouldn't have minded so much. As it was, I was used to being the only child, the star, the center of the whole world. A younger sister meant competition for love and time and attention. And so, I hated her.

That might be too strong of a word. I don't ever remember hating her or resenting her presence in our family, but I can't speak for my almost three-year-old self. My mom says that once she could hear Rachel crying and some kind of thumping sound, and when she went into the bedroom to find out what was going on, she found me rocking the wooden cradle against the wall as hard as I could, "trying to rock the baby." Whether or not I "hated" her and regardless of how long it did or didn't last, I think it's certain that Rachel and I had a rocky (no pun intended) start.

I've sometimes wondered what that must have been like for her. It couldn't have been easy to have me as an older sister. It couldn't have been pleasant to have a sister who was a bossy know-it-all, perpetually two-and-a-half years older and therefore more adept at everything. Constantly making her feel inferior. Taking the attention and talking the loudest. It couldn't have been encouraging to have a sister who was constantly achieving and succeeding, taking charge of games and playtime, asserting her authority. I must have made life a little bit harder for her without really meaning to.

Even once I wanted to be friends and get along with Rachel, the damage had been done. We could play together and make up games and stories peaceably, but it didn't take much for us to disagree and scream and hit, the game ending in tears for at least one of us. I don't get angry easily, especially as I've gotten older, but Rachel is the one person who can push my buttons enough for me to actually yell and need to hit something (I learned to hit my pillow instead of her). In my memory, she was hard to get along with when we were growing up, but now I can't blame her for trying to challenge the authority I assumed I had and trying to get some attention too. I don't think it was all my fault, but I'm sure that to a younger sister, I was simply insufferable.

In trying to put myself into her shoes, I am realizing that it must have been so hard to have an older sister that she probably looked up to not want to spend time with her. That is still the sorest point in our relationship. Try as I might, I know that I don't spend as much time with her as she would like, and I think she resents when I go to parties and movies and dinner with my friends. We are still learning to understand each other and forgive. Why is it the hardest to forgive the people closest to us?

As we got older, we learned to control ourselves and get along, but it was never easy. Our personalities differ in very basic ways. Think Elinor and Marianne from Sense and Sensibility. Elinor is the older, practical, logical, controlled sister; Marianne is the younger, more emotional, dramatic, passionate sister. But in actuality, they also have traits of the other, just as Rachel and I do. I can be wildly emotional and dramatic, and Rachel has a strong logical, organizational side too. The trick is getting us to match up sense with sense and sensibility with sensibility at the same time.

In trying to explain the problems, I am forgetting to include all the good stuff. Rachel and I found common ground in similar interests that we would become obsessed with and share. We went through a Les Miserables phase, Phantom of the Opera, the movie musical Newsies, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, The Beatles, Josh Groban, The Lord of the Rings. There were many times when one or both of us would be confused or hurting and we turned to each other for comfort and help. In spite of our differences, we were still sisters and we loved each other. I don't think either of us wanted to fight as much as we did. And once I moved out of the house and we had more space, we were able to be better friends, to the point where she was able to come visit me here in Pittsburgh and we both had a wonderful time together.

Rachel is such a beautiful girl, it's a little threatening to me. She has always had a good sense of fashion and style, something that I learned late in my teenage years. She has a way of making a roomful of people laugh that I admire, and a passion for, well, everything that I envy. She is brilliant, currently working on becoming a neurologist. She has one of the most generous and caring hearts I've ever known, always wanting to help others and reach out to those in need. She also has an incredible musical talent that never ceases to amaze me. She succeeds as just about everything she does, and I am so proud of her. I don't know if I tell her that enough.

Sometimes she still rubs me the wrong way, just as I am sure I do the same to her. But we are friends, we are sisters, and I regret all the years we were not.