My sister kicks butt.
I speak to her almost every day. She is a part of my heart and soul, and I need to hear her voice almost as much as I need to breathe.
But mostly? She kicks my ass. (Sure, it might not be that big a target anymore, but she finds the bullseye every time.)
She called the other day when I was wallowing in my sorrows. (Note to everyone- don't cry to someone who has walked a MUCH HARDER ROAD than you. They have no pity.) I MIGHT have started to cry as I outlined what I felt was an insurmountable hurdle.
"Are you crying??" she asked. "Stop your crying RIGHT NOW!! You have come too far to let this little thing stand in your way. Are you kidding? This is nothing," she said.
I'm a whining wimp.
I sat on my porch after our discussion, and looked out over the incredible landscape and I realized something.
I am incredibly lucky.
I have an amazing home. Sure, the basement fills with water; it's inhabited by a few hundred mice; the wallpaper might be 50 years-old and Sassy swears it's haunted, but I am in love with it. It has wrapped me in its arms and made me feel safer than I have felt in a long, long time.
I have fabulous kids. They fight; they leave crap all over the house; they ignore my to-do lists; they eat food (for God's sake); they talk back and they make me feel human again. They are a drug I can't ever get enough of- as painful as they may be, they are also the best thing that ever happened to me.
I am on a journey that has no clear course- but I'm ready.
And to my sister? I thank you.
I thank you for supporting me, for loving me, for laughing with me, for reminding me of what is right, and for kicking my ass.
Even if it IS a size 8.