It's been a while. Things have been confusing and emotional and...eh. There's so much to untangle and per usual, I have gone right where I usually go.
That said, it's a special day. It's August 7th. Every August 7th is a special day because it's my sister Marla's birthday. There's been 32 of them as of this year, and it's very likely 30 more then was to be expected.
Marla is an ass-kicker, a makeup wearer, a Jimmy Choo luster and a get-up-and-go-er. She faces her foes with glitter eye shadow and a "Fuck you!" attitude. She showed up on the doorstep at 4am with coffee and her heart the night Pete and I decided to separate. She holds her truly damaged little heart in a body that sometimes fails her and leaves room to hold my heart, PJ's heart, her husbands heart along side it. She holds all of that with room to spare, for kittens that show up on her door step and the fragile little lives she watched over as a nurse, for the readers of her amazing blog who also fight her battle and follow her as she leads the way with a battle cry of words and rebellion and love.
Marla's body might, right now, be a damaged little planet. But it's just a tiny part of what makes up her universe. She is strong, funny, irreverent, brave, and beautiful. I am so, so lucky that she is my sister and my best friend. Watching her struggle with Lupus feels like a thousand knives to my heart, but I know better then to think Lupus will win. Lupus does not know who the fuck it is tangling with.
This week, Marla is down the shore with her husband celebrating. She might need a hat and umbrella, but she goes to the beach. She lives her life. She loves her family. She may be the younger one, but she's kind of what I want to be when I grow up.