To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. ~Clara Ortega. If your sister is in a tearing hurry to go out and cannot catch your eye, she's wearing your best sweater. ~Pam Brown. I’ve had many thoughts about what I wanted to say about friendship and my sister since I was asked to speak today. I suppose the best place to start is the beginning of the best friendship I’ve ever had, and probably ever will. My sister was born in Bradford, PA, on a cold day in February. February 14th to be exact. Years later, on a sheet of butcher paper hung in the hallway of my dorm at UNH, someone posed the question, “What was the best Valentine’s Day gift you ever received?” (We didn’t have Facebook or Twitter back then.) I picked up the sharpie marker and wrote without hesitation: My sister. Still true today. (Sorry Gene.) I remember my Grandparents bringing me to the hospital where Kymberly Elen was born. I couldn’t go in to visit, as I had a terrible cold which later turned out to be chicken pox. (A very good thing I didn’t go in!) I remember my grandmother entertaining me out in the snow of the parking lot with a snow shovel, carrying me around like it was a sled. I remember my mom waving to me from a window. I was three years old. As my sister grew, so did our friendship. Another early memory I had was getting into trouble for getting into the playpen with her. (She had all the cool toys!) I suppose that feeling stayed with me into our teenage years, as she always had the cool clothes! We invented a game together. I would dutifully pick up the toys she would toss out of the playpen and put them back in, at which time she would toss them back out again. I remember exclaiming to my mom, “She’s playing with me Mommy!” When we were older, we would make up all kinds of imaginative games that we played outside during the summer. We had a special place under the trees in our front lawn that we transformed into our playhouse. We both had baby dolls we would mother and our bikes were our cars that we ran errands with. I had always imagined that we would grow up and do all these things for real, and in some ways I suppose we have. Interestingly enough, I remember one of the baby dolls Kymmie had we named Matthew, and this baby doll had tons of hair like my Matthew did when he was born…well I guess he still does now too. Most of the games we played as kids involved being mothers and our pretend families were the most important thing to us. We never really played at having jobs or anything like that. It’s interesting to me simply because family is the most important thing to us both now, and being mothers together has been an incredible journey. She is one of the best mothers I know. My sister remembers a story that I also remember, but it made a big impact on her. We were going to a friend’s house to play Barbie dolls, and she tripped and skinned her knee and crushed the front of her Barbie doll. I brushed the dirt off of her knee. She was in tears, mostly because the front of her doll was smashed in. I told her, “Don’t worry, we’ll just pretend she had breast cancer.” It made her feel better and we continued on our way. We’re pretty good at finding a way to make the other feel better in a bad situation. Another story I love to tell is when we were living in Bennington, VT. My sister and I were waiting for my mom and brother while they went into a bike shop to pick up my brother’s bike. Jeremy had been waiting outside and had been picked on by a school bully. It made me so mad. This bully began circling the car while my sister and I waited for mom. Kymmie was freaking out in the backseat. “What are we going to do?!” I had a plan. “Watch this.” As the bully came around the front of the car on his bike, I quickly opened my door and he crashed into it, falling down on the pavement. He got scared and rode off, leaving us alone. Nobody messes with my family! I wasn’t always such a sweet protective sister. I could be quite manipulative and always wanting to have my way in our childhood play, and later on in life as well. I remember once we were staying the summer in between college semesters at my grandmother’s house in upstate New York. I wanted to go see my boyfriend in Philadelphia but didn’t want to drive. (I still hate driving to be quite honest!) I begged and begged her to drive me, but she had her own plans and they didn’t include driving all the way to Philadelphia to spend time with her sister and her sister’s boyfriend. I threw a tantrum (I was really good at them) and beat up a wall over the whole thing. It’s one of our favorite stories to this day. Kymmie and I are pretty good at laughing at ourselves. I had always been the older sister, offering advice and guidance, until our roles were reversed when we had our first children. She had Kyra 6 weeks before I had Matthew. I remember talking to her over the phone and crying because I had no idea what I was doing and I was basically a hormonal mess. She calmed me down and was able to be the one to offer me some advice and guidance. It was comforting to have her say, “Oh that’s normal, Kyra did that too. You could try this, it worked for me…" She dropped everything and came to take care of me when we lost our son, Andrew. The only words I remember hearing from her when I spoke to her right after it happened were: “Hang in there Cyndi. I’m coming. I’ll be there. I’m coming. Hold on.” I needed her, and she was there. Period. She was my protector then. Even through that terrible summer of tears, we were able to laugh together. She saved me. A few years later, when we lost our brother, I did my best to be there for her. I remember lying in bed with her when she arrived in SLC that night, rubbing her back and saying over and over, “I’ve got you. You’ll be ok. I’ve got you.” Again, in spite of excruciating pain, we were able to laugh together. I have so many stories that I could go on and on. Most of my favorite stories to tell are Kymmie stories. The bottom line is, I have always felt that I have a best friend in my sister. She knows all about me. She knows my faults, and she knows my strengths, and she loves me anyway. I’m there for her, and she is there for me. I’m blessed to say that I have had her for a friend for 41 years now. She is creative, funny, goofy, loyal, loving, and quite simply one of the best people I know. My only complaint? She lives across the country in Florida and I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I would like.