At my high school graduation, there were two people in the building who were seven-months pregnant: a classmate and my mom.
No, my last name is not Duggar.
My baby sister Colleen was born two weeks before I left for college. At first, I didn’t take to the whole concept too well. It took a while to get over the shock that my parents still had relations. Ew. I was a total bitch when I had to miss Greek Weekend to come home for my sister’s baptism. (I was her Godmother.) And I was a bit put off that I rarely got calls from home my freshman year.
After a while, I came to my senses and realized that this little sibling was keeping my parents young. And that is not an easy feat while raising five kids on an electrician’s income.
While typically the youngest is in the shadows of the oldest, it is the other way around for us.
Compared to me, Colleen will always be hipper. More fashionable. More adventurous. More energetic. More optimistic. More patient with kids.
She will always be brighter-eyed. Less weathered. Less wrinkled.
She can pull off higher heels. Shorter skirts.
She’ll forever be blonder, taller, thinner.
A lot thinner.
But there is just one thing I will always have that is impossible for her youth to obtain.
The cuter preschool picture.
Love you, sister!