Yesterday was your birthday. I SUCK AT LIFE, so I didn't write about it yesterday, but here you go!
Yesterday we all met at a restaurant and had dinner together. You were telling such fun stories that the waitress kept coming over and laughing with us. That is the kind of person you are, Kwiddens: the kind who makes everyone laugh, and at nobody else's expense (that they know of, anyway...*evil grin*). That's an admirable quality.
Lots of things have been happening lately, both good and bad. I call you and tell you the good things, and you laugh and tell me how awesome it is that I have happy things in my life. I call you to complain about the bad things (or bad people...) and you just let me rant, and then agree with me that shit sucks sometimes. Also, you don't think I'm a total bitch when I talk smack about someone who is bugging me. Or maybe you do. Either way, you don't say I'm a bitch. That's what a good sister does.
This is a picture of you and me together in the poodle skirts Grandma made for us:
I can't even believe it's so long since we took that picture! Even now that we're grown, I'd still wear an ugly-ass skirt and hold your hand (just not in public)!
I love you so much I don't even know how to tell you. When I see you sad my heart breaks into pieces. I want your happiness more than I want my own. You're the best sister and friend I could ever have, and I forgive you for everything you've ever done to me, like that one time you threw a dead spider on me but told me it was alive and I screamed and punched you and we both got in huge trouble. Or that one time that you stole my underwear, and then when you bent over at school I said "You're wearing my underwear!", not realizing that the boy I had a crush on was in the room. Or that one time that you read my journal and made fun of me for having a crush on James Bacon. Ha!
Kwiddens, I wish you realized how much you are worth as a person. At least ten dollars. Maybe fifteen. Just kidding! HOW ABOUT A ZILLION? That's not even a real number, it's so big. But really. You are a beautiful and brilliant young woman, and an amazing momma, and a devoted sister and daughter, and you are really good at lots of things, like putting on mascara perfectly and making the world's most delicious carrot cake. You work hard all the time and you deserve health and happiness (and lots of chocolate).
I hope this year is better than the last. You better text me every damn day. I need my Kwiddens fix. I'm about as dependent on it as I am on having three cups of coffee every morning, and that's really saying something. Even when you're miserable you make me laugh so hard with the way you tell your stories: with funny faces and hilarious impressions and everything. And when you text me I imagine you in my head, making the same faces. Sometimes I laugh out loud at work after reading a message you've sent me and people look at me like I'm on crack. It's awesome.
I love you more than I love candy and cookies, and cashmere yarn, and my electric blanket, and Dr. Pepper...the list could go on forever, you know. I appreciate everything you do for me and say to me and how supportive you are of me, even when I'm a total brat.
I love you forever. THE END.