Nifty at Fifty, my big sister Christy

I don’t have very many childhood memories of my big sis. This is either to due to the time when as a baby my mom bounced me on my head in a Grand Rapids grocery store or to the fact that my sister is eight years my elder.
I do remember that as a youngster I would find her talking to herself in the bathroom mirror. I remember that she had a Ford Pinto and that one winter day, with me as her only (frightened) passenger, she drove the Pinto through an eight-foot-high snow drift that had accumulated across a desolate country road. Another memory is of the time when she took me to get a 70s-style-feathered hair cut. As a fourth grader. Maybe she was expecting the David Cassidy look, but I think I ended up looking more like Farrah Fawcett.
Then there was a graduation (and quite a party), and a few years later a wedding, and then she was off to Florida. As I was growing older, she was the sister who maybe visited at holidays. Or the sister we visited during the summer. As a teen, I was more concern with the exploits of Alan Trammell and Kirk Gibson than the sister I knew mainly from photos and slides. I knew she was working in a bank. Then she was managing the bank. And I remember thinking how smart she must be.
In the early 90s she switched banks, transferring from Florida to California. I recall searching for apartments with her and our dad during a Monterey-style monsoon. I remember thinking how brave she must be.
A few years later she became a mom, not once, but twice. And I remember thinking how strong she must be.
I always marveled, during my trips to Monterey, how she was constantly learning, or picking up new hobbies and skills. She would be dying and spinning her own yarn, or running half-marathons, or turning her backyard into a garden that would make Adam and Eve quite jealous. I remember thinking how talented she must be.
In 2003, we lost our mom, and my sister was there with her in the final seconds. I remember thinking how courageous she must be.
When the need for a new career arose, she tackled the challenge like a middle linebacker, shedding blockers while studying, working, and raising two magnificent children. I stood with delight at her graduation from nursing school, and remember thinking how intelligent, brave, courageous, strong, and talented she certainly is.
Slowly over time, the sister I never knew became the friend I never had.
Today, my big sis turns 50. I know that our mom is looking down from heaven with both love and admiration.
I’m not sure, but I think Christy still talks to the bathroom mirror. If it could respond, I hope it says, “Happy Birthday, from your brother. He thinks you’re beautiful, wonderful, and amazing.”