Alison was born when I was 3 years and 2 weeks old, exactly.
I remember staying the night at the neighbor’s house when my mommy went to the hospital. These neighbors lived across the street and had two little boys. Their names were Chris and Billy. Their mom always bought pop from the Pop Shoppe, which was big in days of macrame and Pintos. A rack of orange, red, purple, and brown bottles stood next to their refrigerator. For years, I wanted one of the small bottles, but was too shy to ask. They also had an electric organ the mom played at Christmas.
On the morning my sister was born, I woke to the heavy smell of urine. One of the boys had wet his twin bed. The mom wasn’t mad or upset. She cleaned it up and then served breakfast to us. It was Cheerios.
From that point on, I’ve always associated Cheerios with pee and haven’t eaten it. I also associate Cheerios with my sister. But I don’t associate pee with my sister because I really, really love and admire that crazy chick. She is one of the best people, ever.
Today is her birthday. Isn’t she pretty? She was always The Pretty One, but I never minded because her good heart is even more beautiful.
Happy Birthday, Alison!
(she thinks she looks surprised in this photo)