Amelia Love

When I was eleven, my parents went to the hospital and brought back a sweet little bundle of new sisterhood.  Her name was Schuyler Amelia and she was my new baby doll.  Old dolls got tossed aside as I fed her and changed her and inhaled her.  She quickly became my new love. 

When Amelia was two, she wore blond pigtails and tore our hearts asunder with her cuteness.  She seemed to fit right into our family, a sweet little soul that didn’t demand her own way or throw temper tantrums.  She brought a whole new dimension of God’s love to us all. 

When I was eighteen and home for the weekend from college, Amelia would pass me notes in church, begging me to stay.  I still have a pink little letter marked with a big heart and simple words scrawled out in her elementary handwriting. 

When Amelia was seventeen and in high school, God showed me just how different we were.  She played softball, excelled in cheerleading, and donned the rhinestone crown on the Homecoming Court.  When I was seventeen in high school, I sang, showed cattle, and didn’t dare attempt a sport. 

When I was twenty-one, Amelia wore baby’s breath and lace as she threw flower petals announcing me as the bride.  A part of me was joyous that day and a whole other part was broken because I knew I wouldn’t see her as much. 

When Amelia was nineteen, my heart ripped straight out of my chest as I listened to her sob and pound the shower walls after our sister died.  I was helpless in that moment.  Even though I was her big sister, there was nothing I could offer Amelia as her primal screams reverberated through the house.  My heart landed on the wooden floor amidst the scattered pictures of a beloved no longer with us.   

When I was thirty four, I stood by her side and listened to her groom confess his love through vows and tears.  I knew in that moment he would cherish her forever. My heart was content in turning her over to be his wife.

When Amelia was twenty three, she rented a booth in a flea market.  We frequently knocked over every antique store between here and Greenbrier, in search of cheap furniture begging to be graced with chalk paint.  We always drove through Mexico Chiquito, getting our extra-large Mexican punches, cheese dips, salsa, and tacos.  Even though it was eaten in her truck, it was a meal I loved.  We hit the road searching for treasure while I peed out a little punch in every restroom we could find. 

When I was thirty five, I let her and Mom stay in the hospital room while I pushed out seven pounds of pure boy-joy.  I wanted her to experience the happiness of birthing kids but also selfishly needed her comforting presence. She was one of my very best friends in the whole wide world and I couldn’t think of anyone else I would rather share that moment with. 

When Amelia was twenty five, I started saving all of my maternity clothes, toys, and baby clothes.  I was ready to be an aunt to her children, and repay them some of the love that she has passed down to my kids.  I think I will one day behold a little blonde niece in pigtails, tearing my heart asunder as she climbs into my lap. 

When I turned thirty eight, I came to the conclusion that an eleven year age span disappears as those sisters become best friends.