Sister April

I don’t have an older sister. I have a baby sister, Joy, who was born five minutes after me.

As such, Joy and I had to experience all the wonders of female adolescence together (while trying not to look too much alike.)

We didn’t have an older sister to ask about things like bras and dating.
We didn’t have someone who could give us her I.D.

The year I went to college, moving from New Orleans to South Carolina, I was a total tomboy, didn’t know how to use a curling iron and I had one proper boyfriend my whole life.

And then April was randomly assigned to my dorm freshmen year.

I had never met anyone like her before.
She was Southern, blonde, and didn’t wear running shorts to go grocery shopping.

I had never heard a true South Carolina accent before, and I was intrigued by how much April sounded like a movie character.
As I mentioned before, I made April repeat everything, like a parrot.

“Say that again!” I’d insist. “Say the word ‘hill’ again!”

April was confused, but played along.
“HEE-ULL”

AHAHAHA! I clapped my hands wildly. AMAZING!!

April and I were completely different, but she was an expert at all things girly and attractive, like hair and make up and BOYS, and I totally needed her help.

The first guy to ask me out on a date in college, for example, told me to pick the place to eat for dinner.

I had a panic attack.
April picked the place.

The first time I went to the beach in South Carolina, April drove me. And let me borrow one of her bikinis.

She curled my hair when I needed to look fancy, she put eyeliner on me when I needed to meet boys, she took me to Atlanta to get a fake I.D. when I needed to get into bars.

She found me more than one apartment in college, ones that were surprisingly inexpensive.
Now that Joy and I own a house, she’s gotten us roommates to rent our third bedroom.

She’s like the big sister I never had.

In then ten years since my freshmen year of college (what!) April continues to be an older sister-type, beyond lipstick and highlights (which I can handle myself now ThankYouVeryMuch).

For one thing, I don’t think there’s anything you can tell April that she’d judge you for. Not that I have anything to be embarrassed about, uhhhhh…

April remains a comforting person to talk to about problems, because she’s either BEEN THERE, GIRL or knows someone who has.
And I can hang with her when I’m being cranky and she doesn’t take it personally.

I was especially grateful for April’s friendship when I moved to New Orleans last year. I was having an incredibly hard time adjusting to a new life after living in South Carolina for 10 years and April had to talk me out of many-a-panic-attack.

She was sad, but supportive when I moved back home, reminding me that this is what I’ve been saying I wanted to do since I graduated college.

And she continued to be supportive when I found myself depressed, having to make new friends and end a year-long relationship all at the same time, three months after moving home.

A friend who can provide comfort in your darkest hour is the only kind of friend to have around.

It was April’s birthday this past weekend and, due to being 800 miles away, I missed the party.
It was the first time in five years I haven’t been able to surprise her with a (fake) name brand handbag and a cookie cake.

Oh I wish I could meet a nice pilot who has his own plane and flies from New Orleans to South Carolina regularly.
(And who would let me tag along and pay him with my company.)

Because I’d want to tell April all of these things in person — how much I appreciate her, how much she has shaped me and how different my life would be without her.

And, I’d let her do my hair before we went out.





-Jenny