Storytime: Everyone has that one sister

My sister from Wisconsin came to stay for a visit. I frequently remind Lindy she is older than me, number three in the sibling order, while I am number four.

She is the one I shared a bed with when I was little, and a room with until I married. Lindy could have been a comedian; she is full of one-liners and random jokes and is known for unfortunate calamities.

Everyone has that one sister.

Lindy travels with her own bedsheets and gets lost everywhere she goes. She is like Lucille Ball — a normal day is never normal, and she seems to continually fly by the seat of her pants. She is full of “oops” moments, “yikes” moments, and sometimes does things you shake your head about.

She is definitely that sister.

When Lindy comes to visit, it is like a holiday. We have family dinners, play group games, and sit around underneath blankets in recliners. We make lunch dates and dinner dates and take our mother to each one. We talk about the past, where we are now, and where we will go from here.

When Lindy comes to visit, it is a big deal.

We got around that week; we ate cake for breakfast, went out for dinner, and stayed up late talking. We attended several family get-togethers where we had to take a dish or a bring a dessert.

We went to my daughter’s and, since there would be a gaggle of little ones there, I took Rice Krispie treats in my sturdy glass Pyrex dish with a snap-on lid I can’t find. Other sweet treats brought that night were cupcakes piled high with frosting, and a box of gooey homemade cookies.

All my favorite things.

It was Lindy’s last night, so she said her goodbyes and we packed it up early. My daughter took two of our favorite cupcakes and put them in my glass pan for us to take home and have later. I chose white wedding cake with fluffy icing, and Lindy’s choice was chocolate with buttercream icing and orange sprinkles.

I also grabbed two cookies, the cookies-and-cream kind, and put them in the glass dish with the leftover Rice Krispie treats and two perfect cupcakes.

I was pretty happy.

There are a variety of necessary items in the back of my car, so I wedged the dish with all the desserts in between and closed my hatch. After all, I only live a few blocks away. On the drive home, I swerved to miss something in the road and heard a shift and a slide come from the back.

“What was that?” Lindy asked, puzzled by the noise.

Oops.

I should have used caution; I should have paid attention. Instead, Lindy and I got out of the car and walked to the back. I hit the button to open the hatch, and we both watched in slow motion as the glass pan full of all that goodness slid out of the car and disintegrated on the concrete.

The cake pan didn’t just break — it shattered like windshield glass, pieces flying everywhere. The sides of the dish were still there, but the bottom of the dish was everywhere else.

Flying by the seat of my pants, I got down on my hands and knees and used those no-good sticky treats and smashed frosted cupcakes to dab up those tiny pieces of busted glass and scattered cookie crumbs. First the chocolate, then the white, then the treats; I dabbed away at the glass.

“Yikes.” I said, doing my best to keep the icing out of my hair.

That’s when it hit me. I am pretty sure I had it wrong all these years. The way Lindy was watching me with a knowing look of patient tolerance on her face — that look told me all I needed to know. It is me.

I am that one sister.

You can reach Lorry at lorrysstorys@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Columbia Daily Tribune: Storytime: Everyone has that one sister