30 Years of Genevieve

So...it's my sister's 30th birthday today.

And for some reason, I am experiencing writer's block. I'm sitting here, wishing that the words would pour forth. Words describing how important she is to me, how many times she has very nearly saved my life just by being there on those days when it seemed like there was no one else who cared. I wish that I could be there to tell her how much I appreciate the fact that she has been my friend, confidante, fashion consultant, therapist, personal trainer, conscience, and relationship expert (among others).

I know it all sounds pretty rosy, and for the most part, it has been, but make no mistake: we've had plenty of arguments in 30 years. For example, she still claims that I threw one of her Barbie dolls out the car window on our trip to California in 1986. That's one of them. Or all the times she "borrowed" clothes out of my closet without quite getting permission. I'm certain there were many, many fights along the way, but not many that were serious enough for me to remember. We still disagree on some things, but we're getting mature enough to work through it without anyone's Rick Astley record getting scratched.

Almost all of my memories co-star Gen. I don't remember much before Gen. I guess those days are all black and white and like "The Wizard of Oz", the birth of Gen brought in the Technicolor! We shared a room for a long time, upstairs under the eaves, each of us tucked into our twin beds. We used to make up long and winding "stories" every night that usually involved us touring around in a camper with each other and our children, one of whom was always named Bethany. And we always wanted to drive a Chevy Citation. I don't remember that we ever had husbands around. So, in other words, we were living the trailer trash dream, with scads of fatherless babies and an RV. We would go on these long verbal rambles together until Mom had to come holler up the steps.

We played Barbies...a lot. We had some really groovy blow-up Barbie furniture. Gen always seemed to get really exotic Barbies, like Hawaiian Barbie and Half-Black Barbie (that's a Family Guy joke, not mine). I believe that she also introduced the first Ken to our harem of female Barbies. Trouble most definitely ensued. Let's just say that she and I have really fabulous imaginations. There was also a lot of Cabbage Patch play...I remember playing Cabbage Patch hospital in the basement.

Our favorite place to play of course, was at the farm. Grandma let us tear that place to bits. Gen and I played dress up--Grandma let us dress up in her wedding dress amongst other clothes. Playing pioneers was always popular, whether indoors with the furniture or outdoors with a wagon. Nazis in the pasture. Gen was usually game for anything I suggested. I don't ever really remember her wanting to do the opposite of what I wanted. If I wanted to clean out a section of the corn crib and make a playhouse in the hay bales, well, she was up for that. She was the perfect sidekick.

She'd always been tagging along. Somewhere along the line though, I stopped seeing her as just a little sister and began seeing her as my best friend. I'm not sure when that happened. I think maybe when I broke up with my first boyfriend. I was absolutely heartbroken and she let me sleep on the floor of her bedroom because I couldn't stand to be alone. Not long after that, I moved away from home for the first time (a whole 30 miles) and started coming home every weekend and sometimes during the week. I always slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in her room. Even through my first years in Mankato, I very often spent my weekends in St. James, sleeping on her floor.

One of my most distinct memories, one that can still bring me to tears, is leaving her in LaCrosse when she went off to college. She looked so young and alone. I moved 30 miles away from home when I left. Gen was five or six hours from St. James and that felt like the other side of the world. If something happened, we couldn't get there quickly. It was hard to trust that God would take care of her, but He did and she survived LaCrosse.

Once she graduated, she moved to Rochester and I found myself spending many weekends there with her. Helping her move in and out of a succession of houses and apartments. Shopping. Watching her play volleyball or softball or kickball or soccer or whatever. She plays everything and she's good at everything she plays. She never could sit still. Rochester was a good time. We were both single and living the life.

Cue the present day. Hans came along, and Scuba. And Josiah and Annika, and Sam and Gussie. Now we're friends and sisters and confidantes and all that above-noted stuff, and we're fellow mothers in the trenches. I keep assuring her that her 30s are going to be great, that life is only going to get better the older and wiser we get.

Now if I could just move a little closer to Rochester...but I think, all told, that she and I are doing a pretty good job of keeping close even though we only see each other twice a year. I keep dreaming of the day that Hans and I will return to Minnesota and our families will spend our weekends together again, with all the kids and dogs. It's gonna happen. Promise.

Happy Birthday Gen! Love ya.