At first, I could think of no memories. I told Allie, "I have absolutely no memories of my sister at all!" Of course, I was referring to "significant," "life-changing" memories. As I thought, then I could only remember all the memories of times when I was mean to you, or tricked you. Finally, I realized that just plain ol' everyday stuff was the kind of memory that this entry was asking for. And, I have also realized what you are finding out: that all your friends have different memories of the same events than you do. And often, their fondest memories are centered around you being with them. That's really neat to find out.
In August of 1975, I remember going to see you in the hospital. You were red and crying and Dad showed me how you were pointing with the index finger of both hands. It was funny and cool. I was amazed to see such a small human, and to be allowed and encouraged to touch you.
When you were maybe 6 months old or so (ask Mom, she probably remembers the date!) I was allowed to feed you with a bottle. I learned a lot about babies from watching and holding you. I dropped you once because you were so fluid and loose and difficult for me to hold. I would have never held you again, because I was terrified I had hurt you badly. Mom and Dad made me hold you again immediately so that I wouldn't be scared. If they hadn't, I might have even been scared to hold my own children as an adult.
When you were about 2 or 3, I remember playing in the back yard with you. As you walked around the yard, I gathered some small acorns in my hand and tossed them lightly, one-at-a-time, hitting you on the top of the head. When you looked at me I would be looking up into the tree. I would say, "Did you see that squirrel throwing acorns at us?" You believed me.
Once, while you were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, I came out of my room with a gorilla mask on that I had borrowed from someone at school. As I stood behind you, Mom asked me a question and, because I didn't answer her, you turned to see why I was being quiet. It was one of the best scares I've ever done in my life and I felt elated, but also very guilty because it scared you so badly. I remember it because of the guilt I felt at the time, rather than the fun.
I remember teaching you the Greek alphabet as we waited for the church bus at the top of Garland Drive. At the time we had no car and you and I were riding the bus to Sunday School and Church. I doubt you remember much about this time in our lives, or the Greek alphabet! ;-)
I remember when you came to see me at graduation at Parris Island, and you hadn't slept all the previous night. We went to a park and you, Mom, and Dad were so tired you slept in the car and on a picnic bench while Allie and I strolled around (I guess she had slept).
One of my favorite memories of you was the day we went car shopping together. I had been up all the night before for work and it was hot and we sat in a car salesman's office for most of the day (or so it seemed at least, I don't really remember how many hours it was). But we talked a lot, joked a lot, and it was a really good time, for me at least. And, I'm assuming you didn't mind it too much since we got your car that day! Yay!!
These are just a few, but I'm sure you understand what I'm saying here. I've known you longer than anyone else here, so it's only natural I should remember more. And I do... fondly, happily. I miss you all the time. I love you!