My big sister’s favorite game to play with me as a child was a simple one that I’ll just call “Lure John into the dark basement, then race up the stairs and lock the door.” It was a game that I always lost, and she always won. I’d beg her to open the door, and she’d just cackle. My sister had a wicked snicker. She wasn’t sadistic. This was just the law of the jungle. The price I paid for her not smothering me in the cradle. The door would eventually open like her arms and her laughter would be a sprinkler on a summer day, soaking us both. So we’d both end up laughing, and there would be no grudges. Because there really aren’t any grudges between brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters are as close as peanut butter and jelly. Keep reading »
