Felix Natalis

Look who's 30.

When I was born (when you were 3), you weren't sure about me.
We made friends fast.
You looked out for me. Right from the start you shared everything you had.
When you started school, you came home and taught me everything you learned.
You told me your secrets and kept mine.
You played elaborate tricks to make sure I believed in Santa for as long as possible after you found out he didn't exist.
You let me ride on your back when we played horses, and borrow your tapes and clothes- even your favorites.
You let me drag you into the weedy part of the lake even though you were scared. I was scared, too, but I felt brave because you were with me.
You never complained when I got something you didn't.
("Like this?" *Spit*)
When you learned to drive, you took me with you. And when nobody was around, you still played dolls with me.
("I made it, no thanks to you!")
When I dare to dream, you push harder. You seem to believe that I can achieve anything I set my mind to. On more than one occasion you have been furious on my behalf, but you are never disappointed in me.
When I am in trouble, you rescue me. Whenever my heart breaks, you fix it. You never ask to be thanked. You never ask for anything at all in return.
You probably won't even mind that on your birthday, I've made this entire post about you all about me. I just wanted you to know what I notice when I think about my life: you're beautiful, you're gracious, you're clever and silly, you're fattening, patient, strong, wise and kind.
You're simply the greatest sister in the world.
And no matter who's around, if we're together after 9:00 p.m., everything is still funny.
("How was she blinded?" "Lightbulb!" "Oh, I thought it was me.")

Happy Birthday, Morgan