The Start of Something New

Dear Little Sis,

I suppose you don't get many letters....most people these days don't. I used to write letters to people all the time before there was email or blogs, and it was a lot cooler than typing to someone. I had four pen pals, if you can believe it (but one of them was my uncle, so I guess that doesn't count.) I know I'm totally being a hypocrite by typing this letter to you instead of writing one. Since it takes time to grab a pen, fold the paper, lick an envelope and buy a stamp.....it usually means a lot more to get one.

Do you know what a "hypocrite" is? I'm not sure if you've gotten to that point in school when they teach you all these big words yet. Maybe I'm just being condescending (there's another one) because I haven't really gotten to sit down and talk with you in awhile. Every time I go back home, you've grown another year, an inch taller, your mouth a little wiser. I just assume that you're still learning to read, but then I remember you're in middle school (duh) and you're already eleven years old. Don't take it personally; I forget a lot of things nowadays.

That's one of the reasons I'm writing to you now, out of the blue. When mom told me you were going to middle school, I sort of had one of those old people moments: "I remember when I was in middle school....," and then started to jabber on about how horrible it was: like all the times my rolling backpack was kicked (yup, I had one of those), or how I was always afraid to walk to the trash can in the cafeteria because I felt like everyone was watching me. I'm not gonna lie - I worry about you. I know what it's like. I wish someone had told me when I was your age so that I could have prepared for it somehow. So that maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. But the truth is, it probably still would have sucked. And I'd still have to get through it.

I don't want to freak you out too much - mom says you already seem to like it there since you've started. It is a really exciting time, and don't let other people make you think otherwise, if you do really enjoy it. I just know that some things can be tough. You remind me a lot of myself -  when our siblings went to middle school, I didn't think about it as much. Probably because I was too busy dealing with high school, and that's a whole 'nother story. I knew your other sister would be alright, since she's pretty tough and doesn't take any crap. And I couldn't really help out our brother, since he's a boy, and I think he had an experience that maybe I just couldn't identify with. I sometimes wish I could have been there for them, so maybe that's why I'm writing to you now. You're just as sensitive as I was. Not many people know what that's like, but I do. And I hope that by telling you how I got through it, middle school may not be so cruel.

I know it seems impersonal to write a blog, and that's what I want to get back to. Since I'm busy being an "adult," and you're usually busy playing Mario Party or going to soccer games, I figured this is one way we could chat. I thought a REAL letter might be weird for you, since you're so used to computers and email. And this way, I can write you at work indiscreetly (I hope you're taking notes on these new words.) So that's Reason #1. I don't want you to remember me as the sister who never paid attention, though I fear I'm getting there pretty fast. I'm not sure if this makes up for it, but I'm trying.

So why a blog? This is Reason #2: mom always wanted me to write a kid's book about childhood experiences. This is probably because I still haven't grown up. Even so, I still haven't found something worth writing about, and I'm sort of afraid to even try. (I'm a great role model, aren't I?) So instead, I'll write a blog about how middle school life was for me, you'll feel better knowing that I've been through it too, and maybe other kids will think the same. I did come out alive, after all.

As they say "it gets better" - but I remember adults telling me that all the time, and not believing one word of it. You can choose not to believe me either, but I can tell you some crazy stories....and maybe then you'll think differently.

Now, I worry sometimes that I won't be able to remember all of my stories, so that's Reason #3: I just might forget my childhood before I reach the age of 30. Nowadays, I'm out of school completely, and I tend to think about those years more and more. I'm technically a "real adult" now: with a job and an apartment, and a constant barrage of bills. I even have a boyfriend (something I never thought I'd have when I was your age, though I sure wished I did.) Yet, even with all my new adult responsibilities, those school experiences are on a constant loop in my brain. Maybe I really do miss being younger.  But I also think it's because you're at that same place I was in my life when things felt really scary and lonely and unfair, and I want to be able to share that experience with you, so that you know you're not alone.

So hence, this blog. This collection of letters that I will attempt to write you quite frequently about anything I CAN still remember (though some perhaps I wish not to). You can feel free to tell me what's been bothering you, if you feel like sharing, or I can just be the talkative one (that won't be hard) and tell you what's on my mind. Those days of chorus rehearsals, potato-scented lunch times and sweaty, one-mile runs. Some events are more difficult to share than others; but hopefully, you'll appreciate that your older sister was once nerdier and more sensitive than you.

Well, this letter is already incredibly long, so I guess that means I should wrap this up and let you wait for the next one. Just remember that they call it "middle school" for a reason: you spend eleven years playing with toys, making construction paper decorations in class and worrying only about the possibility of missing you favorite cartoons on television. Then everything changes.

You want to stay a kid, but the only possible future is as an adult.

Welcome to the middle.

(I may be 25 years old, but I'm still there.)

Love,
Your big sister.