One of my favorite people in this world is my sister. Based on our childhood, though, you would never have guessed that we’d grow up to like each other. I was the older leave-me-alone sister. Don’t play with my toys. Get out of my room. She had a habit of cutting the hair off of all her dolls so I had good reason to keep my doors shut and my pristine dolls safe. I wont even mention the time she stabbed me in the foot with a sharpened Little Mermaid pencil. Or the time I let her get in trouble (big trouble) for something I did.  No, I wont mention those times.

My little sister is getting married in a couple weeks. I couldn’t be more proud of who she has become. But I couldn’t be more sad at the time I wasted shutting my door on her as a tiny person. It wasn’t until the summer before I left for college that we got close. Really close. We’d spend every Saturday morning at Corner Bakery chatting about life over a bowl of swiss oatmeal and hazelnut coffee. A sacrifice for her the non-breakfast eater. Over summer and winter breaks, I’d usurp her days. Subconsciously, I think I was making up for lost time.

I am struck by the bond of sisterhood. It’s powerful. Strong enough to penetrate through the years. The good and the bad. Strong enough to make two very different people similar. We both have this annoying habit of picking our hair and popping our ears. Don’t ask. Strong enough to make me tear up while designing her wedding invitations and website. And strong enough to keep the doors open. To share every last ugly secret. To Ashleigh, my sister, I raise my glass and clink to you and your cranberry vodkas. To many more clinks but not all in the same night.

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Be sure to catch my post over at Mint today!