Salamander-SalPal-Squid, here’s to you

In lieu of it being your birthday month and all, and since my pure poetry to Meghan still makes me chuckle. I thought I’d send a little something your way. But the question is… where do I begin Miss Salamander? I mean, we could start with how I read Green Eggs and Ham to you a million goddamn times, and yes the book was upside down the entire time, but I had that sucker memorized. Or how about when I cackled like an evil possessed child, cupping the sprinkler and convincing you to come closer, and closer. To be honest, that was you just being dumb…who walks over repeatedly to a conniving, deranged sister only to get sprinklered in the face each time?!

But to redeem myself from my evil ways I did scoop out that little turd surprise you left for us in the tub. You sat there, looking so hopeless, desperate to get the remnants out (WHY did we not just get out of the tub?), you pointed, shocked, but alas I remained calm cool and collected and Heismaned my naked butt over your little ringlit head to dive down in one fell swoop with my bath bucket to collect it and save you. I triumphantly held the clear bucket up full with clowdy bath water and the little culprit. Yes, everyone, Sally poops.

And I think we were so closely bonded as sisters that you may not have actually said the words “Yucky, mean, and nasty” to me at the ripe age of 1, But it may have been just one telepathic stare off that did it. Just saying…this shouldn’t be ruled out.

Let’s see if you remember this one. You and I shared rooms for way too goddamn long, I swear. Do you remember when I woke you up in the middle of the night and we took the Costco bottle of Flinstone Vitamins and hid behind the living room couch and played “house” and ate every last fucking one of those? At 3 in the morning?! I get queasy just thinking about that colored chalk turning to paste in our mouths.

Or how about that time when I pushed your knees to your chest and you farted. Yes- I said it. And it was the funniest thing I had ever heard. My eyes widened with my moment of opportunity and your vulnerability—you were laughing so hard yet so embarrassed, and I just kept pushing your knees down. Yes, everyone, Sally farts.

And I don’t know who told you that if you hold hands with the person you’re sleeping next to you share the same dream, but I can only imagine the sight of us, me eighteen, you sixteen, in sleeping bags by the Christmas tree, attempting to hold hands. This lasted oh, five minutes before you whimpered that my hands were too boney- and then we waited for mom and dad to try to be super sneaky with their way-too-old-to-be-camping-out-for-Santa daughters.

Oh and then we look at the college years. Where I may have been a bit too ridiculous for your taste, but you managed. Where you watched as I broke Styrofoam coolers and we fist pumped at parties, and I would whip up a mean tofu scramble with mango salsa and spinach. We would have these random parties at my house and we would end up barricaded in my room because our inside jokes and quirky-ness and beer hiding underneath my bed as some secret hobbit stash was way cooler than whatever was going on out in the living room. Our invention of cappa cappa cola lives on, and hot chocolate with schnapps and Baileys is the standard when watching movies.

Sorry for stealing lots of your clothes- take it as a compliment.


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