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My dearest sister

Iridium's picture

I have a best best friend. We’ve been friends since first grade. We went to the same class in elementary school and became desk-mates. We went to the same middle school though her classroom was very far away from mine. During my first year in high school, she went to Sydney for further study.

As June Jordan mentioned in her work, “The contact between two individuals is less obvious and, like the weather, not predictable.”Many people lose most of their friends of childhood when they grow up. So do I. However, she is the one remained there and the one I most treasured.

There is a song named “I’ll always be with you.” We are exactly always “stick” with each other.

The contact between us is unpredictable, but artificially made to be on a way to get closer to each other.

For my “we”- statement, here is a detail I need to explain. To many people, I will state “you and I” clearly when I want to use the meaning of “we”, because some of them are really sensitive and get annoyed if I arbitrarily use “we”. For her, it is always “we”.

Though we grew up together, we have definitely different, or I should say, opposite, personalities. During our era in elementary school, she was more mature (probably because she’s nearly one year older than I am), brave, and thoughtful. As for me, as mentioned above, obviously at the other end of the stick, I was ignorant, shy, and naïve. My mom used to say that I felt a lot better about myself than I actually was all the time. Before I made friend with her, I restricted to study about myself.

During my childhood, my parents instructed me to be submissive. (They gave me a lesson physically if I did not follow what they required me to do.) They told me to stay away from bad people in order not to be kidnapped or sold. Sarcastically, my parents did not tell me how to distinguish people. They would tell me stories. What about details? None. I was bit by the daughter of their friend when in kindergarten because I did not want to follow her order. Kids passed me and the girl, but no one stop her. After school, my parents came to pick me up. They did not even ask for an apologize but brought me home. I was crying for my bleeding arm for the whole day and night. The parents forgot about it soon and are still friends. I lived like a womb, wondering around and seeking for cocoons to parasite. Why not build one? I was trying but never succeed to. This time is a bleeding wound.  I was too helpless to imagine what would happen for the next time.

She was one of the important teachers in my life. Spiritually, she was the most important. She was the light I eagerly needed. She taught me how to analysis people critically. I remember the sentence she began with an analysis, “I don’t mean this person is very bad, but what he/she did really made others uncomfortable.” Because of her, I had never blindly thought someone was completely bad but ignore the person’s good side. What impressed me most was that she had never got upset when she knew someone disliked her (at the age we were all eager to be liked by everyone). As we grown up we know that it is impossible to be liked by all the people. She was calm and lived her life as usual but I would cry sadly with tears soaking cloth on the sleeve. What’s more, she would confront the respected, such as a teacher, by herself without the assistant of parents or anyone else. What would I do? I might cry out before even saying a word. Such a cry-baby I was.

I could say, she brought the little elementary school student Irene up. My parents were too busy working so they did not have enough patience on me. But she did. She encouraged me to try new things over and over again while my parents would blame my fear after one times of try. She would describe the experience and lure me to do it. (Lure is a great social strategy.) The output is always great. I remember her expecting shining eyes, like lanterns leading me out the misty childhood.

She gave me brave and strength.

“Stop being a coward!”I shouted at myself bravely, finally. I started to look at my own problems and learn to solve them. These abilities are all from her.

This summer, I went to a newly-opened theme park with her. Though we were split into two countries for four years, we share our secrets. We talked about our past life and everything remains in our memory. We reminded each other. When I thanked her (in a joking tone in order not to be awkward.) for teaching me so much when we were both little, she told me what she learnt from me. I was unraveled from the regret that I gained a lot from her but she never take anything back in return.

For the first time, I broke the cocoon and learnt to fly.

For the second time, I came under the sunshine and found my bright.

I am the only child in my family. She had a similar given name to me, Xinyi, and a same last name with me. People say we are like sisters. Yes, we are. I call her as my elder sister. She calls me as her younger sister. We used to live a life opposite to each other. Since we learnt, she lives like me, and I live like her, on the two hemispheres of earth, in different seasons.