Dear April Ann,
Today you turn 18, that magical age when you can stop off at the 7-11 to buy cigarettes, lottery tickets, and porn or, if you prefer, you can drive over to an Indian casino and play video poker. I chose the latter on my 18th birthday, but honestly? Gambling is kind of dull unless it involves large amounts of free alcohol (clearly, I'm not our mother's daughter).
It's been fun watching you grow up and, since I was 10 when you were born, I can more or less remember the whole shebang. You were so tiny and cute and, more importantly, I got to stay home from school all day waiting for your arrival. You didn't get home until well after school would have been let out anyway, so I might as well have gone to class, but I got to sleep in and then spend the day on the couch watching reruns of the Brady Bunch. Your birth will always be firmly implanted in my memory right alongside the time Marcia got Davey Jones to sing at the prom.
At age five, you were constantly in my stuff--in my room, in my clothes, in my drawers--and I'll never forget the time you stuck all my stickers all over every envelope in my stationery box. Seems so trivial now, but then? Hoo-weeeeee, was I ever mad.
You collected rocks--lots of them straight from the yard, all lined up on your dresser--and you also collected roly-poly bugs (also known as Woodlouse). You kept them in a box in your nightstand and fed them leaves. When mom discovered the little habitat, you had a whole family of them. And, by family, I mean a great big Texas compound-sized family.
Alas, the years have passed and now you're all grown up. And I sure do like you. I've loved you with all my heart since the day you were born, of course, but now that you stay out of my stuff and let me borrow your shirts and no longer keep bugs in your nightstand, my love is just bursting at the seams. Yep, you turned out alright.
You brought this poem home from elementary school one day for me. It is written in pencil and each line is numbered in the margin, presumably to remind you which lines to rhyme. I've kept it all these year in a file folder and your 18th birthday seems like the perfect time to publish it right here on the Internet.
Poem FridayWishing you tons of non-tarty pinke panthers and much, much more. Happy birthday, baby sister!
I made a party just for you
I bought a cow that says I love you
and it is true
I hope you love me to
birthdays are very fun
we will have a party
we will invite pinke panthers they will bring a ton
hope they won't be tarty
I really want them to go to your party
I planned it out so well
Ya they aren't tarty
I promised mom I would not tell
I have letters to send
so that is the end