A love letter to my eighteen year old baby sister


 

I have prayed for you.

 

When Mary Grace’s (my childhood friend) sister was born I was envious.

 

I want a playmate. My elder sisters are seven years apart from me at that time and they didn’t want to include me in their circle and so I felt left-out. I wanted to have somebody to be with me and play with me.

 

As I grew, I become very lonely and watching Mary Grace with her baby sis I became very happy and sad at the same time. And the idea came to my silly little head. I went to our parent’s chamber, climb into the mattress with bended knees and clasped my hands together; I closed my eyes and said my sincerest prayer ever. “I want a baby sis too. Please God, please God!”

 

As a child I didn’t knew how much time had passed. I didn’t know what was happening and my only concern was to eat, sleep, wake up early for school, play afterwards and wonder. Until, on one fine day. Someone wake me and with a tender voice she said, “Love gising na. Gising na.” I didn’t know what the fuss is about until I saw a tiny little wee thing on my parent’s bed. A chubby, so little, and sleepy young fellow, she looks like a cherub. And that moment, the people in the room started to tease me, “Aayy hindi na siya ang bunso may bago ng bunso!” I didn’t react to them; I just stared at this little one in front of me. If I had the wits at that time, I may say to them “WTH are you guys saying? I actually am happy, I had prayed for this moment. I prayed for her.”

 

When naming begun to discuss in the family, mom asked each of us regarding on what we would want to name her, I stared at mom and to our baby and of course, she’s sleeping again! So I said, I shall name her, Aurora, like a princess; A sleeping princess. But mom wants her name to start with later “J” and still I insist. What name could actually name her after a Disney princess? And then, someone said, Jasmin. Name her Jasmin.

 

So Jasmin was born.

 

As a child, she had this, layers of skin in her legs and it’s so cute. Her hands are cute too until even now btw. She may not even remember but before when you’re going to ask her what’s her hair color or her dress, her eyes and everything expect her to say “blue”. Her favorite song at that time is “Mambo No.5” she loves to dance to it and her first male crush is my elementary classmate, Michael Nathaniel Visco. Oh, these secrets that I had held but maybe you won’t even now remember.

 

Growing up, people would say that “I’m jealous” but in reality I am not. I want her. I prayed for her. But I’m not perfect. No one actually is perfect. As we grow, we argue a lot. Really argue. Sometimes I wish to reverse the moments that we fought each other but then again, I can no longer deny the fact that she was a child and I’m too was a child and we need to learn to grow up. Misunderstandings occur and as I grow I now had understand the distance my older sisters had in me.

 

Sometimes I want her to become “me” to think like me. But I want her as well to have her own identity, a version of “she”. In wanting her to change and to become like me, she inherited, I guess, my stubbornness, my temper and my intelligence. As she grows to what she is now. I happen to see that I can no longer understand her thinking. I’m a coward, you see. And she’s determined, you cannot just win an argument with her. She is very strong. The crying darling is now a free spirited fine young lady sought after by most of her peers. Jasmin is too strong for everyone to handle and too stubborn for me to understand.

 

She is frank, but truthful.

She is stubborn, but forgiving.

She is hot-headed, but generous.

She is dramatic, but cool.

She is fat, but can handle herself pretty well with fashion.

She is Jasmin, and she is once a baby but now grown up.

 

I’m proud of what she’d become and what will ever be in the future. And I’m sad because the baby I was once held and played with is now standing on her two feet facing her own world. Her own endeavors, her own destiny, her own fate, filled with too much passion and love for her craft.

 

I thought, only the parents are sentimental about this kind of stuff but I didn’t know that I could be like them too. Maybe because I’m not used to handle this so-called “matured” life, maybe I thought time moves too fast that before she could not catch up on me and now, in reverse, I can’t catch up with her.

 

As for my wish my dear darling, I don’t know what to ask for since God had granted my wish. Honestly, I thought that I was a good kid back then because God granted my prayer. And that is..

 

darling it is your existence.

 

I am not alone because she was there. I became mature because of her. So I thank her for existing. I want her to enjoy life as I have enjoyed mine. I want her to be happy as I am today because it’s her birthday.

To our darling,
You are our blessing. You are my blessing.
Happy Birthday Jasmin darling. Happy birthday baby. Cheers!
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Comments
3 Responses to “A love letter to my eighteen year old baby sister”
  1. Doctor Eamer says:

    wow! so sweet. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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