Yougest of Three

I'm the youngest of 3, by several years. And let me tell ya- big sisters are big fun. Some people think of the youngest as a pesk who feeds off of annoying the older sisters. That was never an issue for me- I loved having older sisters. I always had someone to curl up with while we watched my shows in front of the only color television (their shows were "too mature" for little ears- I'm sure they didn't mind). And when I was too young to have my own friends come over, it was ok because their friends were more than sufficient for me. Sibling rivalry and arguments really weren't much of an issue. After all, they were "old enough to know better" (... in almost every situation). And then of course, there was the protective factor. Sister's look out for eachother. I did so through my "spy journal", which was promptly handed over to Mom & Dad- to ensure their best interest, of course! And they looked out for me too. Take, for instance, the following example:

"Meg, come here"
"Not now", I anwswered simply, as I played with my barbies.
"Megan, Please, I want a hug."
"I'm busy", I calmly explained as I continued to comb the golden locks of the miniture doll in front of me.
"MEGAN." Her voice rose- not with anger, but with panick. Then with hushed urgency: "Seriously. Come here. Now."
My head jerked up and my eyes locked with my sister's. I was well aware of that sound- that look- and it could only mean one thing...

Medusa.



Yep. That wild-eyed, snake-haired evil entity who, by the Grace of God & my sister's alone- I had never actually seen. Without fail- they were always in the right place at the right time- and for that, I was eternally endebbted to them.

Each time they so dutifully warned me of her presence, I would carefully and slowly pull myself up onto my 3-yr-old legs, careful not to take my eyes off off hers, and only when I caught my balance would I take off across the room, leap into the extended arms, bury my face into that brave neck and cling on for dear life. I'm almost certain there were tears (and probably nightmares too!).



I don't remember exactly when I finally understood that this cruel joke was entirely self-serving on their behalf and the absolute, most heartless way to get affection!! Imagine the insecurity of growing up, believing that at any given second, something akin to the epitome of the "boogy man" could come and turn you to stone with no warning!! I mean, what kind of rotten kids could get any satisfaction this way?? Heathens.

But eventually I got over the trauma and I have to admit, if only to myself, that there was a valuable lesson about faithfullness and protection and sisterhood. Growing up, I understood that, ultimately, my sister was my protector. And even now- when panick sneaks up behind me, I know exactly what to do. I dial the number, wait through the ring tones until I hear her voice and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding...

"Kar?- It's Medusa..."