The time I went on a date with my sister

According to one eyewitness

When I lived in New Orleans, my sister was in Houston where still lives today. We weren’t next door neighbors, but 5 hours straight shot across I-10 isn’t bad, especially the stretch closer to New Orleans that skirts Lake Pontchartrain and goes through the Maurepas Swamp.

Growing up, she was 4 grades ahead of me so we were never in the same school at the same time, but we had similar experiences at different times. The benefit of having a sibling the same age as me was obvious, but it took the time and space that came with her leaving for college to appreciate that she had walked a similar path and could advise on friends, foes, and relationships.

NOLA | 2017

We haven’t lived in the same place since she left home, but those couple of years on the gulf we saw more of each other than usual, trading visits for Thanksgiving, Mardi Gras, and other long weekends.

The last time she visited, I didn’t ask her to, but she knew I needed her to.

She wasn’t the first person I told when I started having doubts about a relationship, but she’s the one who showed up when it all came crashing down. She braved a budget bus and got me out of the house and let me talk about it over beers in the Adirondack chairs on the front porch.

One night we went out to my favorite taco spot and I nodded politely at someone I knew through my recent ex. I guess good news travels fast because within the hour another mutual friend was chewing me out for the audacity to be on a date so soon after a breakup. It was funny, in the same way a sunburn can be funny and hurt at the same time.

That weekend passed and we all moved on, but here’s what I still remember. I remember learning that love is providing care that isn’t asked for. It’s knowing when to show up and when to lay off and that even if you make a mistake on one of those, you’ll always be in their corner, ready try again.

Thanks for that, sis.