If you ask my father what it is like to have two daughters only a couple of years apart in age and deeply intrenched in those dramatic teenage years, you will probably get a groan and a shudder in response. The truth is, the mythic picture of the deep and eternal bond between sisters illustrated in many of literature’s best novels is just slightly idealized. As my parents will most readily tell anyone who asks, the vision of two young girls giggling deep into the night as they share their innermost secrets, though comforting to many frustrated parents, comes to a screeching halt at the inevitable holler of “You stole my shirt!”

And so it begins.

My sister is now nearly the same height as me. We wear the same size clothes and seem to have developed similar styles. Initially I thought, “Great! My wardrobe has doubled!” Right. I had conveniently forgotten that this also means that her wardrobe has too doubled. For example, I recently arrived home to find my darling little sister wearing my new shirt to clean the yard. Yep, there she was, raking the yard in my clean new clothes. One can imagine my reaction. In all honesty, the sharing, and occasional theft, of clothing, makeup, music, and books can forge a wonderful bond between sisters. It can also be the most annoying thing on the planet. But the changes in our relationship go far deeper than matters of clothing and makeup. I have come to the sudden realization that my innocent sister is becoming an independent, thinking human being. I can no longer coerce her into following my lead; she is no longer shy about saying “No! Why the heck should I do what you say?”

Gone are the days when I could sit on her until she squealed “OK! OK! I give in!” Now she tries to sit on me (tries I say – in the last fifteen years I have learned a few tricks that she still can’t beat!), and demands that I pay her back for all the years that I “tortured” her in her developing passion for coffee and my clothing.

As we have grown older, my sister and I have become both the best and the worst of friends. Nobody in the world knows me better than my sister, which is both a comforting and a terrifying idea. There is only one person in the world who knows exactly what I am thinking when I look her straight in the eye and raise my eyebrows. There is only one person in the world who knows what I am going to ask before I ask it. She knows all my insecurities and as well as all the things that I am excessively proud of. And of course, she never hesitates to tell me when I am making a fool of myself.

In a little over a year I am leaving for the university. It will be interesting to see where our relationship goes once I have moved out of the house. I hope that the time apart will be an opportunity for us to develop our own identities, separate from the influence of the other. I simply hope that my sister will be able to make the choices necessary for her development as a fulfilled person. For much to her disappointment, I will no longer be around to tell her when she is doing things wrong.