Happy Birthday!

I was eleven years old when my baby sister was born. I was so proud! Oh, I forgot to mention that I had wished her into being.
My other sister and I shared a room and there was no room for a crib. The baby would share my brother's room. He announced that if it was a girl, he was leaving; but he never did. I think he liked being the only boy.
The year was 1955 and changes- besides an unplanned for baby- were happening. Captain Kangaroo began his life career of teaching good values to children on TV; other children's shows followed. My baby sister soaked it all in- she spoke fluent adultese by age two. At my house, we no longer had a stay at home mother; she learned to drive and went to work. The food we ate changed from homecooking to processed meals. When my father went on road trips, we ate TV dinners or soup and sandwiches. I always knew when money was tight when we had Franco-American spaghetti or frozen potpies for supper.
She was seven when I went to nursing school. I would sneak her in for a night or two some weekends. It was against the rules, but, for some reason, the housemother never checked my room when she was there; and the housekeepers always left me extra clean sheets. We never did anything special, just had popcorn and cokes, and talked.
At eleven, she was my junior bridesmaid.
Her teens were tough years. Being unwanted and regretted is not easy. I wanted her, but I left her to my mother's verbal and emotional abuse. Back then it wasn't called abuse; it was our "norm."
Now, she's a mother and a grandmother; she just graduated from seminary with a Master's degree in Divinity. This month she will be ordained as she waits upon the Lord for her next step. Her story is one of hope and it is fitting that she loves butterflies.
Baby Sister, I am proud of you and I wish you more butterfly years!
Love ya still, Connie