|Me on the left, my sister on the right.|
If we define "forever" here as "so long as one or more of us still has the power of conscious thought."
When my sister was born, I didn't know what I'd gained. My earliest memory is of me as a toddler, scowling petulantly at the nursing infant who had come to monopolize all my parents' time and energy. When she got old enough to be fun, I learned how wonderful it was to have the constant companion and friend who is a sister. That sounds really mushy and reminds me a little of a Precious Moments figurine (ew, gross!), but it's true.
Recently, while somewhat sauced at a party, I started talking about my sister with a boy I'd just met and in whom I had absolutely no romantic interest. He apparently thought it would be a neat game to pretend that he knew my sister, knew her better than I did, in fact. I had faith that he was lying, and I told him so. He said he had met her at a party, and that she did all kinds of things that he assumed I would find horrifying. Not only was I unfazed by these supposed behaviors, I was incensed that he would imply that I didn't know my own sister inside and out.
"No, no, you don't understand," I slurred emphatically. "She's my best friend."
Which was, of course, my polite way of saying, "Bitch, please." I mean, c'mon. Look at this magnificent collage, which is only a very small representation of how many hilarious moments and amazing faces we've had and made together.