Of Heidi

HEIDI IS MY SISTER—my big, little sister with skinny bird legs, one bearing a scar of a childhood day together. Heidi is tough as stone and quick with words, sarcastic to a “t,” witty and sharp. She knows what she wants and works until she gets it.
When you put Heidi and I together, she becomes the voice of reason that brings me down from the clouds and back to reality. She’s my balance: logical, analytical, with sincere brevity. She says what I don’t want to admit, always watches her watch, always punctual, always business. She has a great contagious laugh which she gets from our mother, along with nearly everything else (except her cooking “skills”—those were aptly learned, definitely not genetic). She sets herself up for success.
If I had to choose a little sister, it would be Heidi —otherwise we’d have never met. We have nothing in common but our parents and perhaps the same nose, sharing the same story growing up, and the same bath water. She has taught me a few lessons and I look up to her—well, I have to. She’s taller than me.

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