Ashley

is my sister.
I miss her. She will be back in America soon with my nephew, Aiden, and after living on separate continents for a year, I have become more appreciative of having a sister, and a good friend. We call that, a "twofor."
We are only 16 months apart, and have had our ups and downs through life. Fighting to the point of almost killing eachother one moment and then being best friends the next. We are extremely similar, yet polar oppossites. There's a contradiction for ya.
She once threw a basketball at my head out of anger. On that same note, she also through a phone, a book, and many other objects at my head -but the basketball is the most memorable. It was infront of our whole Junior varsity basketball team, and well, it hurt. Maybe while I had my secret littering addiction, she had a secret "throwing objects at people" addiction. I think she has grown out of it, but I still wear a helmet when we hang out. Just incase.
Another memory that just popped in my head... We were young and she told me to put my middle finger up. Me, not thinking this was an odd request, did it. I did not realize it held any symbolism at the time. Wanna know what she did the second I did what she requested? She told on me. Yup, that's right, she ratted me out. "Mom! Charis stuck her middle finger up!," My mom was appalled, and I started crying. In between sobs, I said that I didn't know what it meant, and Ashley whispered, "It means you hate Jesus." I cried louder, "BUT I DON'T HATE JESUS." Ashley probably does not remember this memory, but apparently it took a toll on me.
We were pretty strange children, and come to think of it, we are pretty strange "adults." We would write short stories. I think that is how I got in to writing. We would tell ellaborate tales about ghosts and mysteries. We read a lot too. She was in to Nancy Drew, and I was in to the Valley Girls. We did this for fun, believe it or not. We also would play a lot of make believe games. Our bikes were cars, trees and mail boxes were stores, and our brother Scott was a pon in our games, doing whatever we made him do. We called this particular bike game, "Life." We thought it was so fun to pretend to be adults. Stopping at trees to buy fake groceries, opening our neighbors mailboxes, pretending they were banks. Why is it that children want to be grown-ups so badly and then we you grow up, you want to be children again? Riddle me that.
Excuse my random nostalgia, I just miss my sister.