It’s my little sister’s birthday tomorrow. She’s twelve years younger than I am. [I’m smack in the middle of nine children, Louise being twelve years older and Carol being twelve younger.] [Also, number 5 of nine, so smack in the middle in number order, as well.]
Carol. Sweet baby sister. You’ve always been everything to all of us.
She was only six when I had Scott. And since I lived with mom and dad during many of those early years, she was his best bud. Always playing and helping, and babysitting and entertaining him. Such a good auntie, a forever friend.
I remember when Carol was born. Or more precisely, I remember when I first heard that Mother was expecting. I beat the heck out of the girl the who told me because I thought she was spreading rumors about my parents who were in their mid-forties at that time. It had been years since Rob was born and I knew it was virtually impossible. Mom explained that Dad had wanted one more child. He wanted one more baby to keep them young. He wanted Carol, and so did she.
She was the light of our home for years! We all adored her as a baby and toddler. And after having a houseful for years, Carol was raised much like an only child and spent years with Mom and Dad, traveling, vacationing, visiting. No wonder they both cherished this daughter so very much!
And now she’s all grown up, a mother of four delightful and responsible grown children and a new grandmother. Carol is the one who took on most of the responsibility of Mom after Dad passed. Carol and her family lived two doors away and met her every need. Becca at a young age, [14?] moved in with Mom and stayed with her nights so Mom wasn’t alone. Their entire family sacrificed for the comfort and safety of our Mother. Thank you sister. For all you’ve done. For all you are. For all you mean to me.
I love you!
And Happy Birthday!