I’ve been following a couple of blogging sisters. They are both delightful and talented writers.
The younger of the two sisters survived a near deadly plane crash. She was in a coma for three months.
This mother of four fought back long and hard in an attempt to live the life she had imagined for herself and her children in spite of her life changing injuries.
She was featured on Oprah the other day.
The survivor’s family was on the show too, via satellite, and the older sister had a few seconds to comment.
The two most recent entries that the older sister has posted to her blog (since the Oprah airing) are reeking of green envy.
The blogger tells a story of being weepy and on edge one day and acting like a brat (even though a very grown woman) with her mother the next day.
I’m great at smelling between the lines and I smell jelly-azz, (Now I’m not an official mind reader or anything, but I do have a really good nose).
I feel bad for this big sister…she is probably incredibly jealous that her sister gets to be on Oprah…(and who in the hell wouldn’t be???).
I don’t only smell jealousy….I also smell shame.
She is ashamed that she is jealous that her sister got to be on Oprah.
Because she had to be burned up, and lose her pretty face and her pretty life in order to be invited.
I would love to write an email to this poor older sister and tell her that I understand what she’s going through.
You see, when I was 12, my sister had the good fortune of suffering an attack of appendicitis and the lucky girl got to have surgery and have her appendix taken out.
(I was worried sick that she would die during her operation. She’d never been away from home without me. I missed her being underfoot while she recuperated in the hospital after the surgery.)
(Once she was out of the woods…things started turning ugly.)
The brat had all kinds of people bringing her presents and cards and money to the hospital.
Family and friends visited the house and showered her with sympathy and Get Well Soon balloons.
I wished and I prayed for some kind of disease or illness that would allow me this same treatment.
As my poor luck would have it….I remained healthy and whole.
In my sent email I would tell that older sister that she has done a remarkable job with helping to raise her sister’s children while that sister was sleeping for three months. I would tell her that she looked beautiful and smart on Oprah. I would tell her that she shouldn’t feel ashamed that she may feel a pang or two of jealousy that her sister got to sit on Oprah’s couch….near enough to smell her perfume and be up close and personal with her Jimmy Choo shoes.
Sisters share such a unique bond.
Your sister is out of the woods now…..life can go back to (a new) normal.
I getcha big sister…..that rotten little up stager got to sit next to Oprah....I'd be crabby too.
Susan (when she still had her appendix) and me.