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Columns by photoretinas, by newest first

  • Catherine by photoretinas
    My sister Catherine and I are about as different as is humanly possibly. Two years and seven months younger than me, it often seems she’s the elder sister. Our friendship is one of the hardest and best things in my life. We bring out the most in each other…whether that be very good, or horrible (as Kipling said…).
    Cat and I clash. We’re the gap between narcolepsy and insomnia, pragmatism and idealism, Frank Sinatra and Jimi Hendrix, or Grace Kelly and…Courtney Love. She loves order, perfection…while I thrive on chaos and revel in the potential of perfection. Where she is cautious, I’m brash. Cat is something of an ice queen, while I’m known for a sometimes-comically short fuse. She’s graceful, and I’m a china liability. Sometimes her diplomacy makes me want to scream – if I need to fight, she simply will not talk to me.
    My sister is pivotal to my life – we have crucially shaped each other. When we were children I was jealous of her. She was the golden child…blonde, blue-eyed, and lovely. Dark-haired and always-contrary, I never felt I had her appeal. So when she looked up to me, I shunned her. Our subsequent preteen and teen years were brutal, befitting adolescent girl dynamics. But when she got to high school, something clicked. Our stars lined up and we were close, harmonic. We shared friends and were rarely apart.
    Then came the karma I deserved: Cat became disillusioned, and my big-sister shine wore off. She abhorred me, and I still adored her. No matter what I did to reset our closeness, she froze me out. It was miserable. Missing her made me realize how much she meant to me.
    At this point, the tables have made a one-eighty spin: I idolize my sister. I love spontaneity, but Cat’s natural responsibility is something I lack drastically. She is clever; I could never compete with her razor-sharp wit. I wish I had her resolve when my mind overloads with too many pipe dreams. I am still jealous her, as I was when we were small, but now I’m inspired by her. I want to be as confident, as clearheaded, as she is.
    I don’t think I could talk about her without comparing us as a pair. We have mutually shaped each other. I learned through epic mistakes, and she’s taken her cue from them and walks a smarter line. Sometimes we intensely dislike each other, but there is never a lack of love. To be sisters is to be constantly conflicted, but constant through conflict.

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