Taresa is number 2 of 8 and I am number 8. During my early childhood she was like a mother to me. She was always there to take care of me and to entertain me. I can remember screaming her name when I needed help wiping my butt (he, he)... one of the things I am sure she enjoyed as her older sister "duties". Thanks sis! I remember asking her which step to do first butter the bread or put it in the toaster. She was amazed at my bagel sandwich making capabilities.
She was the first sister to get married and I was the flower girl in her wedding. She introduced me to my first love interest, her ring-bearer, and I remember how special I felt getting to stay up late and dance with him at her reception.
I remember visiting Taresa as she work as a waitress at my favorite little restaurant, Annie's Pot. They had the best breadsticks with cheese sauce and pumpkin pie a kindergartener could ask for. It was so fun seeing my sister and having her be the one who brought me my favorite treats.
She was also the first sister to have a child. I remember the school secretary coming in and telling me that I had a nephew when I was almost 6 years old. I recall thinking, "What the heck is a nephew?!" He and I spent a lot of time playing together before his father taught him to say "Be Boo" which meant that I was to leave him alone.
When I was in grade school and often left there after school hours by my mother, it was Taresa that often went out of her way to pick me up. She took me to her house and fed me dinner. I remember drinking whole milk with dinner, eating cookies, and trying to feed the horses that came to her backyard.
As the years went on and with our age difference I guess I kind of thought that she would always hold that position as a motherly figure to me. But as I grew up our lives became more similar... we both were going to college at the same time; we were both pregnant within the same few years, etc.
She is one of the few sisters that have ever come to visit me since I have grown up and left Michigan. It was so much fun when she came to visit me a few summers ago and I got to share my life, as a grown up, with her.
When our father died, it was her house that I spent a lot of time at being comforted by her. Her house always feels like home to me!
