My Greatest Fear: Having the Same Relationship with My Little Brother as I Do with My Older Sister

My greatest fear:

Having the same relationship with my little brother as I do with my older sister.

My best childhood memory:

Early in the morning fresh from returning from the greatest place on earth Disney World, we would sneak into the kitchen by crawling on the floor like tiny ninjas. We were not looking for cookies or pancakes. The mission was to find the Harry Potter jellybeans, a straw bag full of a child’s jellybean dreams and nightmares. We saw the target…we grabbed it and went on our way. Mission complete. Our parents are deeply sleeping in their bed. Now, we could play our favorite yet disgusting game. First, we would turn on the television to watch Spongebob Squarepants. Next, we would get a pillow to lay our heads when we lay on the floor. Then, came the fun part of the game. We dumped the pack of jellybeans on a pillow, closed our eyes, and picked a jellybean to eat, but the jellybeans were called Harry Potter jellybeans for a reason.

“Yuck! This taste like dirt,” I squealed silently.

“Because it is a dirt flavored jellybean!” she giggled.

We rolled on the floor laughing. After that we would pick and choose the worst flavors on purpose just to see the reaction on the others face not knowing about what time would do to us. The years would come, yet our innocence would run with time. All I want now is to go back to the days when we could laugh and giggle for just five minutes without yelling at the top of our lungs for something we had done in our past.

The older we got the worse the fighting got. She is the girl one would want to party with while I am the girl that one would want to be lab partners with so I can do all the work. She loved going out to parties, and being in the “in crowed.” Yet, the one thing t...

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...he looked through the phone. The longer her eyes were on the phone the more angry she appeared. She kept the phone with an intense look in her eyes. She entered the car but strangely rolled the window down. In an instant, she threw the phone out the window. She locked the doors because she knew my sister would run after it. As my sister wept for her lost, my mom drove the car slowly. I could hear the phone being crushed against the pressure of the wheels. That was the first of many silent car rides of many.

Sex, drugs, and parties filled her college years. This all unraveled in front of me, a seventh grader at the time. What a role model. She lived the life of the expected college student. All my standards for her dropped. She was my blood but not my family. I never looked out her the same again. She is not my sister but just Vianca, a stranger I thought I knew.