My sister is another year older and it’s weird. (I, like Joey from friends, find it rather disconcerting that people perpetually grow older.) Anyway, even though I’ve already wished Abi Happy Birthday through the form of an Instagram post and a text message, I thought I’d go ahead and do a blog post. Nothing like the personal touch, right? ;)
(Mainly for the photos, there are some real cuties)
An open letter to Abi’s sixteen year old self:
Have a good day.
You know how I’ve recently starting calling you ‘Bobby’ and you don’t really think it’s cute, but I’m trying to make it catch on? I’m not gonna stop and it is gonna catch on. Sorry about that. In a few months time you’re going to realise that I’ve stopped growing taller and will officially be an oompa loompa until the end of time. You’re going to have a lot of fun teasing me about that one, so…
A levels are coming up! Holla! You’re going to do well and I’m going to be all like ‘Really? Really? Pretty and clever? Save something for me, geeeez!’ But other times I will watch as you get your thumb stuck in my phone case for twenty minutes and I will decide that we just have different skills. I will always be so proud of you and I will not stop telling people (or trying to subtly drop it into conversation) that I have a sister who does Biochemistry at Oxford, even if this involves a serious conversational segue;
“Biochemistry – did you say Biochemistry? My Sister does Biochemistry”
– “Er, no, I was talking about Black History“
“She goes to Oxford”
“Also she’s the women’s Bouldering champion OF THE WORLD”
*whispers* “and she’s so pretty”
I will also force people to look at pictures of you, and of us together, and especially ones of us together that have been taken after I turn seventeen and learn that I can put makeup on my eyebrows. (And espeeeeecially ones that have been taken after I learn that I can put makeup on your eyebrows.)
We will continue to spend our birthdays together, even that one time when I’m in Italy. This is because you are a top sister and also because you enjoy making me scream and burst into tears of happiness and shock when you surprise me on the steps of Venice central station.
Most of all, I think that you will be happy, and you will continue to care for me as well as you have done for the last fourteen years and six months. (Although that now involves walking me home after parties, receiving excited text messages instructing you to go and stalk celebrities on my behalf, and having a loud, short, stressed out teenager in your house for at least the next two years.) I don’t know why you do it. I really, really don’t, but I am grateful to you for continuing, because sometimes I just really need someone to phone, or someone who understands why a picture of a Chihuahua wearing a sombrero is so funny that I think I’m going to pee, or someone who remembered to bring a coat, or gloves, or their keys. Most of all, I need someone who never judges me or makes me feel stupid, and who supports me unfailingly in everything that I do – even if it’s weird.
Happy Birthday Piglet!!
I love you and I think we’re all proud of the person you’ve become ;)
All my Love,