A long time ago, M wrote about me in Sisterly Specific.
I’ve been intending to write about M for some time now. But how to do it? I sometimes feel mere words wouldn’t do an adequate enough job.
Since we were younger, M was apart. She was her own person, even as a teenager. She didn’t need the parents who were lacking in our lives, she frankly got along in life better without them. Starting at 15 M made very real pleas to have the care of me, she could do a better job at it anyway, than any of the dismal arrangement my parents made.
In school we had a trite assignment to write about our heroes, an undertaking I did with relish, pages of all the reasons why, in my eyes, my sister seemed almost mystical.
Not that she was a paragon of virtue…
As we got older, she finally stopped locking me in closets. She got me drunk for the first time at 10, in defiance of our parents being, to borrow a British term, prats. She covered for me when I started my escapades with boys.
She fought fiercely for me. She was the constant I could count on, even when she was going her own way.
She had her daughter young. And when people would gear up for criticism, she shoved it all in their faces by being frankly, a better mother than most. She worked diligently, going to college, working, raising her daughter… She was adulting better than her own parents before she even hit 20. I’m not sure where she got this strength and fortitude from, there were certainly no examples in our family, and that added to the awe in which I regarded her.
Friends and men. They were always drawn to her. M has a quiet vivaciousness. Some mistake her for shy. Nothing could be further from the truth one you get to know her. She flirts with the ease of breathing, artlessly. She’s completely oblivious to the fact that she does so. She’s never jealous of others. Instead she admires their qualities and strives to improve herself. She sees beauty in others, and is never hesitant to compliment them, be they friend or stranger. She sees each person for their own merit, and isn’t influenced by the opinions of others when forming her own… This sometimes drives me batty when I loath someone with the fire of a thousand suns.
M oozes her own sensuality, unintended, but undeniable. She always has. Our mother had the curious inclination to dress her quite scantily as a teenage. Our best guess is she was living vicariously. M never had the desire to show of her body. She was graced with the extremely petite build and large breasts of our forbearers. Which she diligently tried to hide. She has graceful hips that carry her in a seductive sway. She works hard on her body, and jokes that she only does so so that she can eat brownies; a weakness of hers. I truly wish she could see through my eyes, and see how utterly lovely she is for a moment. Instead, she is always working on the next goal, and I think sometimes fails to see the beauty in what she has already.
She’s a beautiful model, but horrible to work with. She has never tried to be a sex kitten, so she has no idea how to do it. She bounces around, and her attempted sultry look makes me giggle. She could never put on a show. If you caught her in an intimate moment, the natural grace and poise shines through. I’ve seen it in the pictures her husband takes of her during those times. Getting her in a studio setting though is fun in the failure, it’s great to see her scamper.
Being the oldest in the family, and my surrogate mother for most of my life, the unsavory habit of being bossy still carries over in adulthood. She’s always been the leader, including in her own family. It comes naturally to her. I frequently thumb my nose at this and scamper wherever I please in my own echo of childhood. Admittedly, many things would be in ruin without her guiding, including this blog. To her goes the credit, the painstaking hard work, and the dedication.
One of my favorite memories from childhood is when M would read her stories to me. She wrote the most amazing stories, and used the vocabulary and language, that was the greatest gift our mother ever gave to us, in exquisite form. Her stories made you FEEL. She seemed to write with such ease, never floundering in a story, but knowing always where it led. This gift has continued and grown, as seen on our blog.
She seems to do everything, including growing in her kink, her career, family, transitions, our blog, with the ease of gliding through water. I tell her all the time she deserves a medal for adulting, a thing I still don’t do well. She’s a normal person, with stress, the horrific allergies our genetics dumped on us, physical ailments. None of these seem to slow her down though. She always makes time for things. She’s always there with help or sage advice, wisdom and guidance.
If you asked me today, to write about one of my heroes, I could surely dust off that old paper from my school girl days, and gladly hand it over, although I might add that the hero I had then is even more so one today.