Sister Monica

That's her on your left. My sister @ her first holy communion, back in the day. She is 9 years older than me, and without a doubt, the best big sister a girl like me could ever have. She calls me Baby! My sister is the kinda woman that will give you a thousand dollars to put a new roof on your mother's house, without you even having to ask. And if you happen to be cleaning out the garage with her and are thinking what dirty task needs to be done next, you can be sure to look over at her and she's On It. Thoroughly. She's got more balls than our brothers! But she tempers that with a sentimental heart. G. lived with her in Hot Springs, Arkansas for his whole sophomore year of high school, his Favourite relative by a landslide. I've been thinkin about her a whole lot lately and I haven't told her about this blog. G. and I talked about it and he said she would Love it (especially since I HATE talking on the phone!) We don't really chat all that much. We got that kinda thing going where she knows what's in my heart and I know what's in hers. Sometimes I worry about her getting lonely over there but her and my mom talk all the time. Plus, she comes home almost every year. There isn't anything she wouldn't do for our mother. It's a sweet role reversal in that the mom is the spoiled one. And one of her coolest cool qualities is that she is Tough. Feirce. She will KICK your ASS if you cross her. Literally...I've seen her do it. That's my big sister Monica & I love her. And she loves me. She built that deck for my mom, she was in charge, so I just helped.

Monie, if you're reading this, knowing what today is: this is how I chose to honor him. Don't be sad, okay?

I love you.