The first time I saved her life she was about 4. She couldn’t keep anything in her stomach and was about to be hospitalized. As the bitter older sister, I admit, as I sat on the edge of her bed while my mother tended her, I was sizing up the wall space in her room, imagining what my furniture would look like in there after she died. (Shut up, I was 9.) Suddenly, I started singing a silly song but mixed up the words and she started to smile, then giggle, and the more rediculous the song got, the more she laughed. Finally, as I cavorted around the room, she sat up and started eating her Saltines – it was a miracle.
My next heroic act was a couple of years later. Our parents had left the house with the admonishment that we could go outside as soon as we finished our chores, but not before. Vicki’s chore was to clean the bathroom, and mine, being the Cinderella of the house was of course to clean the fireplace. Having always been a bit of a chemist, Vicki closed the bathroom door, put the stopper in the sink, and singing all the while, set about mixing her own cleaning potion which consisted of Clorox, amonia, Ajax, and toothpaste….yeah, pretty much producing toxic fumes immediately. I think she started choking, which is what made me open the bathroom door to check on her. I dragged her outside, and then bravely went back in to drain the sink and open all the windows in the house.
We’ve had our moments, as all siblings do, but all in all, I’m
mostly glad I was there to snatch her from the jaws of death.
So happy birthday Vick, and you’re welcome!