sister - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
My sister is the person I most love and most hate. If I got a black cat she'd run out and buy one blacker. I guess I should be flattered in a way, she watches what I do and emulates it. I wouldn't mind so much if she didn't crow when she does better after courting my help every step of the way. If I drop a dress size, she drops two. If I buy a new suit she get's one tailored. The only thing she can't replicate is Matt and she at least holds back from flirting with him. He proposed last night, with a ring so expensive I'm gonna go back to the store with him to choose something that won't cripple him financially for half a year. But first I'm sending a picture to my sister. I should know better, or so Mom says, being all of eighteen months older, but I can't help it. It's literally the first time she can't one up me in I don't know how long.
I don't know what it is about Charlene, but she attracts disaster wherever she goes. She has car accidents, she looses per passport while abroad and get's involved with low level criminals. She's the most soft and law-abiding person I know, but there's part of her that thinks she can rescue everyone if she just shows them enough love. I tell she's stupid and she melts me with a grin that takes me back to when we were kids. She messaged me to say she's going to some soup kitchen tonight, more souls to rescue I guess, so I said I'm coming too. You should have heard her, she thought I'd "finally seen the light." But I'm not going to be some "every-day hero," I'm going to make sure she doesn't hand over her bank card and PIN to some homeless dude. And while that might seem harsh, it's totally in character for her to do it. I'm not saying she's dumb, just that if I don't protect her from herself she'll be the next one who can't pay their rent.
I'm just about to explode when my sister comes in with her usual big smile and a "What up lil' bro?" She casts a look from me to Mom, who's in the corner of the room beet red with hands stuck firmly on her hips, steam almost flying from her ears. Sally doesn't need to be told I screwed up again, she can read the situation faster than a one word note. And this one just says "Scram." I expect her to go, now that she's moved out of home she doesn't need to put up with the tension anymore, but she doesn't.
"I'm gonna take Tyler out for dinner. Alright Mom?"
Mom explodes, "Right. Yes. Get him out of my sight. Out!"
"He's gonna sleep over, see'ya. Love'ya." The door slams behind us and we're off to her beat up Ford Fiesta with the scummy seats. We don't say anything. She turns the radio up real loud and we head off, stopping at the pizza parlour for a large pepperoni. Next stop is the beach. She pulls a rug from the trunk and we sit as close as we dare to the waves.
As soon as the chore list gets posted my sister buries herself in the textbooks that have lain unloved on the coffee table all morning. She has to get that math homework done right now or she'll fail, apparently. I fold my arms and look to Mom, surely she sees through this. Sarah cares as much about math as I do about ballet class. Twist, turn, fall, stretch, arc, ache. But instead Mom has this sappy grin and I can hear her thoughts fly right out of her otherwise empty head, "My precious first born is doing math, nothing could be more important." So I scowl as she reassigns all of Sarah's jobs to the rest of us. Well, I'm not having it this time. I don't care if Mom works from sunrise to sunset, if Sarah doesn't get off her fat ass neither will I. In seconds my butt is on the floor, my arms are folded tight. Screaming gets me in trouble, fast, so let's see what a silent protest will do. Mom is always on about how great peaceful civil disobedience is...
When my Dad skipped out of our lives my sister became my mom. Not because we didn't have Mom anymore, but because she spent every waking hour earning enough money to pay the mortgage and buy groceries. Sometimes I think back to how I used to whine for the cool stuff other kids had, I'd like to scrub those memories from my brain, but I was a kid and that's what kids do. If Annie hadn't started cooking and doing laundry I don't know what would have happened; I've heard about foster homes and to be honest they sound more like cattle holding pens with just as much love. Annie walked me to school, helped me learn spellings and told me to go to bed at eight thirty. Sometimes she shouted so much like Mom it was like they were the same person, but Annie was just thirteen. Perhaps that's why she doesn't have kids now, maybe raising me was enough for her. When we turned sixteen we had to get out and find jobs, Mom was all spent after so many years of non-stop labour...
In a rocking chair even older than herself, Ivy sits, her body as still as the green apples in the fruit bowl. But her fingers move fast in an exact routine, a white cardigan, bejewelled with an array of different stitches extends from her knitting needles. There are raised bumps and an area with small intentional holes in a pattern. Every day she thanks God for sparing her the curse of arthritis that reduced her sister Marge's fingers to gnarled and painful twists of hardened skin and muscle, the bones crippled beyond repair. Though she sits sizing the garment on her own limbs, it is for Marge she knits today. By tea time she will be adding the pearled buttons and tying it into a parcel with pink ribbon. Tomorrow she starts with racing green wool to make the new school sweaters for her grandchildren. All the while she plays piano jazz in the background, only stopping to brew more tea and fetch another biscuit when her stomach rumbles loud enough to be detected by her aging ears.
My sister, her shiny chestnut hair, her dimples, her beautiful blue eyes. Her strong, athletic build, so like our mom’s.
My sister has needs, many of them. For the most part I've always worked hard to make her happy, she's the older one and so my teenage idol in many ways. She did everything first, cut her own path, she didn't listen to Mom or Dad one bit and I thought it was great. Now that we're adults though, our lives have separated in too many ways. I had kids and she didn't, I earn more and she bounces along on a string of jobs, none of them lasting more than a few months. After every break up she comes to my door, day or night, drunk. Between jobs she hits me up for cash, for groceries or rent. Then when she's flush again I never see a cent back, like I'm her personal ATM. I never minded too much, well not for a while, but when I needed her help she was never "available." No matter how desperate I was she had concert tickets, it was her friend's birthday, she was meeting a new boyfriend for beers. It breaks my heart to downgrade my expectations of her, but I don't want to end up bitter...
My sister curls up, cat-like by the fire. After a long night of raging at our mother she is simply exhausted. I wonder if her dreams beg her to calm down in their nonsensical ways, or if they egg her on ever further into the abyss she's headed for. I almost laugh, in sleep her face is like my lil' sis, the one who'd bring me flowers while I was studying for an exam, or tell me so honestly why they guy I was dating was an idiot. I miss her, I want her back. Mom says she'll reappear when her teenage hormones die down, we just have to keep her on the right road until then. I told Mom there's no way I was this bad, she just laughed. Now we're playing good cop, bad cop. Mom lays down the law and I'm the shoulder to cry on, that way at least we know what's going on in that addled brain of hers...
My sister was always the smart one, the one who outshone us all. In any room she was in she'd be the brightest light, the one everyone turned to admire. She was their first born, and though they would deny it, my parent's favourite. Now I can barely think of her for two seconds straight without desperately seeking a distraction. Last time I saw her she was already dead, though she breathed and shouted obscenities. She was skeletal, her once snug and fashionable clothes looking like they were thrift store cast-offs. It's just a matter of time before she overdoses or some client does her in. I know when that happens the part of me that still loves the girl she was will mourn all over again. I will visit her grave with the flowers we used to plant in the spring and paint in the summer months andI will tell my children how their aunt used to be. I will try hard to forget ever detail of the ghoul she became and how she broke our hearts into ever smaller pieces.
I spoke with firmness in my voice as I gave Lara my advice, "Lara, why do you always play and not study? You don't even put back the books that you have read in their proper places!" Lara looked away as I spoke but I continued, "You should study harder and be responsible. Then, everyone will like you, even your teacher." I almost laughed because I sounded like my mother.