Slowly we go
Slowly things grow
Slowly things show
We’ll never know
What’s coming ahead
Yet slowly we stay
Slowly we stay
Staying on course
My baby sister is a central part of my existence. She was born when I was eight years old. I couldn’t have imagined she would be one of the biggest loves of my life and it wasn’t something that happened immediately. You see my family was on and off poor. I was concerned for her arriving into this situation. Since a child I was inclined to worry and this was no exception. Also no one had really asked my point of view in the matter and no one had privately told me of my moms growing belly. Rather I had found out I would be a “big sister” (as my older sister liked promoting) when my mom shared the news at a family reunion. Amongst the cheers, hoots and hollers and everyone hugging there was no room for me being upset. So I held it in the brave little eight year old that I was. That is not to say I was happy!
I went along for the ride with my moms growing belly. Savoring the baby free days and extra snacks. Hoping the thing growing making my moms belly button look weird would delay its arrival as much possible. But every due date arrives. On one of my mom’s routine check ups we were directed to the hospital. My older sister and I were directed to the hospital lobby. My mom gave us “A TON” of spare change to make purchases from the vending machine. The hours passed and passed and passed: full of Doritos, sugary drinks, faces of strangers and bad television; as sometimes important hours do. It was evening when our dad arrived smelling of work and excited with that excitement that is palpable and annoying if you’re irritated. Finally the baby was born, nurses directed us to the cribs. They pointed at ours a yellow baby with lots of trollish black hair. In essence a little troll. I immediately told my dad I was hungry. I was only eight-premeditation-preyoga-pretherapy-prebabysister.
Our dad took us to McDonalds that night. We went to the fair the next day and got a screen print picture of our faces. On the third day we drove for our mom and inevitably the baby came with. Darn! Life would certainly never be the same. A few days later I was sweeping when I heard the baby crying. I was upset but I was no monster. I entered and cautiously approached. I sat at the corner of the bed and started singing a lullaby. The little baby dressed in a yellow onesie hushed her cries. She hushed her cries and squashed my every fear in that one second of silence. I kept singing in a low voice, didn’t want anyone to know I had a soft spot.
Looking back I’m sure my mom knew I was singing to the baby and gave us space. Gave me space. Space to grow and love and heal slowly. I’ve been smitten with the baby ever since. The little troll baby in a yellow onesie has grown into a beautiful woman who I call: my best friend, co parent, little sister, confidant, soul doctor, dream interpreter, fellow comedian and muse…amongst other beautiful adjectives.
Sometimes you just never know what beautiful things the future holds. It’s easy to forget that even when we know it to be a fact. I suppose this is a reminder to myself; outcomes are unexpected and the most meaningful things in my own life have come this way slowly, slowly, slowly.