white noise

So far in the last month, I’ve had two fantastic telephone conversations with my sister. She’s so adult now that it’s almost frightening. She’s managed to overcome some incredible obstacles: a drug addiction, smoking, and a history that I’m sure still haunts her. I suppose I can’t ask or expect perfection, but she makes these steps, one at a time, towards a better life. I worry that she’s a fraud, that it’s all a plot to get something else, but perhaps the motivation she talks about — her two girls — is real.

Either way, the depth of love I felt for my sister when she was born remains as fathomless today. I’ve no idea how to convey this sort of emotion to her, especially not trusting her fully. I wait, watching her cautiously for the telltale signs that point to her being deceptive or evil. How can I blame her, though? She learned from the best, didn’t she? She had two very dysfunctional parents, one a drug addict and the other so co-dependent, she couldn’t get her head out of her nether regions.

And then she had me. However much I tried and however much my heart might have been in the right place, I wasn’t a parent. I had no clue what I was doing. I only knew that my father and Barbie were more like a wrecking crew than parents to Chelsea. She grew up with no boundaries and no values. How can my father bitch about her values now?

I called Chelsea yesterday to tell her that I’ve been thinking very seriously about Barbie’s funeral when she passes on. I’m the executor of her estate (so far, anyhow), and I’ve decided that she shouldn’t have a traditional funeral. It’s just not her style. Or, at least I don’t think it is. So, I asked Chelsea what she thought of a memorial endurance ride and she loved the idea. Me too, actually. It smacks of Barbie, and we can work it out so both horse people AND non-horse people can be involved.

Neat. :)