MY SISTER GERI

It is very cold outside. Not as cold as I expected but the wind is blowing scattering the snow widly through the air. Even "I" didn't stay out long this morning. She ran around the yard, warding off unseen advesary's. This morning I armed with a piece of cheese met her at the edge of the porch She came in without a fight, that cold, snowy wind was too much even for her. I have to finally confess something. Christmas eve I did a snow dance. I wanted a white Christmas. It started later in the afternoon to sleet, then snow. We have had snow on the ground ever since. I am not saying I caused this cold mess. But I do promise to refrain from any further snow dances,

I talk to my sister Geri every morning. She is like me an early riser. We talk, laugh, find out what each other is going to do for the day. This usually occours somewhere between 5:30 and 6:00. I love my sister. I tease her constantly, and she will say, "Elder abuse, why did I call you?" I always laugh and say, "It was me that called you." Geri is a good person, sweet, neat, quiet and always says the right thing, at the right time. Did I say she was neat? In other words, she has all the attributes I do not pocess. I love her very much.

But growing up in her shadow was not easy. I cannot even start to recall the times I heard, "Pull your socks up Billye, Geri keeps her socks up. Why can't you?" I was 5'9 by the time I was 13 and weighed maybe 90 pounds. In this day and age I would be accused of being anorexic. I was not. I was tall, lanky and skinny. I ate all the time but it never went to body fat. But believe me after thirty all those excess pounds that had been storing somewhere other than my body finally caught up with me. It has never been the same since. Geri had ankles, now Geri was not fat, but she had ankles. She dressed nice, she helped around the house. She was my cross to bear. "Try to be more like geri, I constantly heard. How in the world can you possibly be like Geri, when you are a wild child who is following music nobody else hears.

Geri had clothes, pretty clothes. She was five years older than me and went to work before I was old enough too. We had always been very poor and I wore hand me downs. Of couse the hand me downs were twice my size. But oh I longed for her beautiful clothes. And when ever she would leave the house I would wear them. I had a supply of large safety pins. I would fold the clothes inside and pin them. I believed they looked alright that way, they came in at the waist anyway. Looking back I shake my head at the memory. They did not look alright.

Geri had can can slips. Remember this was the fifties. They were glorious. Pink, black, red. They had beautiful bows and they were satin, and lace and made your skirts stand out. I would put one on and stand in front of the mirror. My dress standing out three feet from my body. Large safety pins holding it up. I would whirl and spin around. I thought I looked beautiful. The glory did not last long. My sister would vome home, find large safety pin holes in her slips and dresses, oh yes they were usually strewn all over the floor. She would scream, "Momma, Billye's been in my clothes again." I innocently would say, "No I wasn't," but of course I was. Those were the days.

The years have flown past, turning us older, greyer. slower. But those memories will never leave. Geri is still sweet, neat, quiet, did I mention neat?. Still says the right thing at the right time. I still the nutty one, still saying the wrong words at the wrong time. Still hearing music nobody else hears. I have lived in her shadow for years. But as I have grown older I found it quite comfortable here.