Tonight is the eve of my baby sister's book release.
Seems like just yesterday when I was plotting ways to get rid of the usurper who had infringed upon my Only Child status and now I'm sitting here, amazed at the wonderful person she's grown into.
She came into this world on mid morning Monday with a host of medical issues and there was some talk she might not make it. Yes, it was that bad.
She was so small, newly born and already the world was against her.
But she made it.
The moment I held her in my 7 yr old arms, I fell in love with her. She was "mine." I wasn't her biological mama, but she was mine.
She was a quiet baby, slow to react to things at times. She didn't start talking when she should have. But a sweeter child had never been born. Her eyes lit up everytime I came home from school. Fuck homework, time to hold and rock my Mimi!
Within a few years, we discovered another medical issue on top of the others she still suffered from. She was completely deaf in her left ear with 25% hearing in her right ear. She wasn't speaking because she couldn't hear well enough to emulate anyone. She attended a special school when she was around 3 or 4. They helped SO much. And once Wendy started talking, no one could shut her up. She makes me look mute. A lot. Still.
The doctors went on to tell us the devastating news that they thought she was mentally retarded and had too many problems to be able to function in any type of unsupervised atmosphere. They were wrong. She simply learns on a different scale. She is highly intelligent. Doesn't have much of a sense of humor but that's probably because I stole it all. *grins*
I won't recount every single medical issue. That's her story. But there was a significant amount at one time that the doctors also told us she wouldn't past her 10th year.
Mimi is 36 years old.
She had defied every single one of the odds she had coming out of the gate.
And my love for her burns hotter, brighter than ever.
She is kind, sweet, loving and generous. She likes to pretend she's not sentimental and we have a running joke when she does find herself in tears that its the fault of "dry fucking California air". I found her today in tears, sitting on the bed, rocking and panicked. I am so, so protective of her. I would kill for her, I would die for her. I mean that. When I asked what was wrong, she told me she was just so happy....her book is out tomorrow. The cover kicks ass. It'll be an ebook and print! She was overwhelmed with joy. I sat down and held her, we hugged and rocker together.
I don't have any children of my own. I never will. A sad fact but true. She is by turns, my sister, my best friend, my daughter, my muse, my mentor and my salvation. Because there have been many times, MANY times, lately, in my own life where I wanted to give up, curl up and die. For a multitude of reasons. She gives me so much strength with her gentle smile and large heart.
Wendy is MY hero. She always was. Always will be.
I remembered discovering how much she loved to write years ago and asked why she never told anyone about it. Her response?
"I don't want people to laugh at me. In case I'm no good."
"Writing isn't about other people, sis. It's about you. Fuck them. Do it for yourself."
I pushed, prodded and poked as only a big sister can and she began to do it more. I'll be the first to admit that while her genre ain't my cuppa tea..it doesn't change the fact that she had good ideas, a vivid imagination and an ocean of determination.
And tomorrow....is her reward. I couldn't be more proud, or any happier than I am right now.
You did, baby girl. YOU did it. Despite every thing...you held on. You believed.
And made your own magic. Congrats to you, Perci/Wendy. You changed YOUR stars.