My sister was watching me sympathetically as I burst into tears for what annoyed me. Holding my hand firmly in hers, she sat by my side without uttering a word.
Willingly or not, I had been her sister for 13 years since I was 7 years old. Due to her arrival, I then childishly thought that I was thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. Once a lovely girl, I felt condemned by this fate to becoming a desolated burden ---- all the adults around complimented the newly-born, charming creature while neglecting my presence.
A cloud of jealousy hung over my once peaceful heart. I muddled through each day by sharing all I had previously had enjoyed alone. And all I had to cling to was to hit her and shout at her on our parents’ back.
My sister was so scared of me that each time when she was left alone with me, I could notice her trembling----and that pleased me even for years. But, I also knew that she respected me from the bottom of her heart----though I never admitted that until that day when I participated the College Entrance Examination. My parents as well as my sister all came to bolster morale for me outside the school gate. I was thoroughly prepared. I passed the line that separated the examinees and the supporters, and walked on nearly 100 meters, I suddenly heard my sister’s voice:
“Your pen-box! Sister, you forget your pen-box!”
Turning back, I saw my sister’s little body rushing past the security guards all the way towards me.
When she run up to me, what she heard was my sneer: “Pen-box are not allowed. I’ve picked out the pens.”
Then she answered breathlessly: “Oh!” daring not to look into my eyes.
Seeing my sister walk out with a disappointing back, I suddenly realized that she was always waiting for an opportunity to do something for me.
Later, when I went to university in Beijing, I tasted the ache of loneliness. Furthermore, two shocks in quick succession allowed me to learn that my sister’s really means a great deal to me.
The first thing was that, as Mother told me, after my leaving, my sister insisted on not moving any of my things. She even put my towel besides hers. She said, whenever she entered the bathroom, that would remind her of my smiles, my jokes, my being a patient listener.
Then came the second shock: I could not remember when I gave her a smile, when I ever told her jokes. As for “a patient listener”, all that came to my mind was that my sister kept telling some trivial incidents in her school day, but I put none of them into my heart, only minding my own business. Yet as long as I felt sad, it was my sister who would sit by my side, watching over me.
This summer, my father rented a house by the Nanli Lake and took us all there for several weeks. This time, it was me who was expected to catch the opportunity to push our relationship further, and to let her know how I really felt.
The first morning, we went fishing. We stared silently at the tips of our rods, at the dragonflies that came and went. I lowered the tip of mine into water, tentatively, dislodging the dragonfly. I looked at my sister, who was silently imitating me, and yet there was even no dragonfly on her rod! Then I intentionally let her hold my rod, her eyes watching. For a while, I could experience her state of mind---she was pleasantly surprised by my behavior showing acceptance.
Being wild with joy, she finally caught two Yuenan fish, hauling them in briskly and put them in the net skillfully.
Then I had to accept that, as the time went by, my sister had grown up much more independent, being able to manage many things all by herself. But still she followed me step by step, imitated whatever I did, convinced everyone of her classmates that I was the best sister in the world. I knew that she tried her best to let me know that: she loved me.
Now I once again complained in her arms, asking for her comfort. Thinking of the past 13 years with a sister, tears of happiness poured down my cheeks. For I had always felt my sister’s presence, in both heart and life. I was lucky, so lucky, for my parents had given me a gift more precious than doting on me; a gift that helps me know what love is and how to treasure it. She is the angel in my house.
