Birthday Bear

Some folks will tell you that they can't remember anything from when they were three. Call me bizarre, but I have a few very vivid snapshots or two. One of those memories was when my family moved across town. I sat in the moving van and wore a yellow t-shirt with a pocket in the front. I remember my shirt sleeve flapping from the wind outside the window.

I have another distinct memory from when I was three years old. It was 1989, and my mom was great with child. In preparation for the baby's arrival, she had a boatload of stuff, including a little Snoopy rattle.

On this quite ordinary day, she was standing in the dining room, facing out toward the living room, and let me shake said Snoopy rattle at her belly. I was told that my soon-to-be-little sister would probably like that sort of thing.

Not quite the same model, I don't think. But close.

A short time later, that very sister decided to arrive. I remember staying at the Pogorelecs' house, friends from church, while Mom and Dad were at the hospital. That morning, I wasn't hungry for anything, barely even finished half a glass of orange juice as I overheard Marie talking on the phone with my parents about the new little bundle of joy. Her name? Nicole Marie.

That was 23 years ago today. I've had 23 years of sisterly love from the wonderful Nicole Marie. Yes, we bickered -- sisters have to; it's a requirement -- but so much of my memories of those years were nothing but playtime with our overly active imaginations. Our Disney barbie dolls got into so many predicaments (I never did understand why we made John Smith the idiot), and our "radio shows" that we recorded on re-re-re-re-purposed cassette tapes couldn't be beat.

Three and-a-half years' difference provided quite a strain sometimes (because, let's face it, there was a vast difference between what a ten year-old wanted to do for fun and what a fourteen year-old wanted to do), but as we passed on into our later teenage years, it simply didn't matter. We simply became pals. Best pals.

To this day, she and I maintain a connection that many have tried to decode, but none have. We'll speak entirely in You've Got Mail quotes (including the occasional Heavyweights or Cool Runnings throwback). We'll recall all of the inside jokes that have "technically" made it into our lexicon throughout our childhood. And then, when all else fails, we'll be snuggly and be sisters. I couldn't ask for more.

Coley, you're a beautiful young woman. You're 23 today, and although you've grown to be plenty capable and plenty grown-up over these past few years, you'll always be a fussy little Bear -- one that Daddy always lets roll just one more time at Yahtzee -- that I happen to love so very much.

I'm so thankful we're sisters. My life's experiences have been made so much sweeter with this simple fact: you've been part of them. You're positively beautiful, charismatic, spirited, so very full of life and love. I'm proud of you. I love you.

Happiest of birthdays, Coley Bear.

PS: Good thing it wasn't the fish.