One Year, 9 Months

When we were little, I would tell people we were two years apart.  Jaclyn would quickly correct my superior attitude by reminding me, "Actually, it's just a year and 9 months."  The truth is, I don't remember anything about that year and 9 months.  As far as I'm concerned, she's always been there.  My playmate, sidekick, confidante, my cousin, my friend.  

She is the best at laughing with me and listening to me, and she's better than anyone on planet Earth at tuning me out when I'm jumping up and down for attention or looking to get a rise out of her.  She isn't fooled by me for even a minute.  She knows I mumble the words of all the songs on the radio just to get to that one part I can belt out.  She knows when I'm fake smiling or pity laughing.  She knows when I just used a word I can't actually define, and is the first to realize I didn't understand the punchline of the joke either.  She catches the glint of mischief in my eye before I get to pull off the prank.  She keeps me honest. She knows I like my coffee black, that I can't be trusted not to laugh in church, and that she should never sit too close to my toes when my feet are bare.  Nobody gets a bigger kick out of story about me being clumsy than she does.  

She is so many things I admire.  Quiet but strong.  An amazing mom.  A loyal friend.  The best and quickest to supply a genuine compliment.  Unfailingly kind.  A thoughtful gift-giver.  An extraordinary hostess.  Crazy smart.  Stylish.  And, of course, sassy!

Those first 21 months were so boring without you!