She done got her Bachelor's

I used to coax (she would say yank) her spiraled hair into a side pony tail until she was, uh, 6? I can't remember. I want to, but I can't. Guess that's time's curse for you. I think of those antique window frames I see all over the place--their glass intact but the paint chipping off the frame's edges. That's what memories are like for me. Some are there. A lot are missing. Or chipped and about to fall off. I grovel for the remnants.

We made "dough" in her Little Tikes kitchen. I'd sneak down to the pantry...get a pan, some flour, sugar. We'd mix that with water from the bathroom faucet, and, presto! Then we'd sample it.

Ew.

My little sister's finished her bachelor's in biology. Donned the cap and gown, waltzed her toned gams across the stage, and, finished. I helped her trash her professor/mentor's office with paper, confetti, TP, saran wrap. I had to mask how honored I was to share that memory with her.

I ooze pride, but am sad, too. I have to clunk myself on the head and say, "Mindy, she's grown up, married, for Pete's (who's Pete?) sake--you can't protect her anymore-and by the way, it was never your place!"

Congratulations, Sissy. You are forever my darling.