Beautiful Reneé

I called my sister yesterday to discuss some difficult family news. Today I sent her a note with a more upbeat focus, and for some weird reason I ended it with "Happy March 29." I paused to look at that date and thought it looked odd. Then it hit me: Her birthday is March 28th! I'd called her yesterday and made her cry on her birthday! I'm such a jerk. Not that I told her bad news, but that I did it on her birthday without a word of acknowledgment. I'm such a thoughtless pig. Sorry, Honey.

She's actually not my birth sister, but sister-in-law sounds so formal, so cumbersome, so distant. But she's my sister all the same. Reneé is such an elegant beauty. I'd look up to her anyway, but she literally towers six inches over me. When we met, she had gorgeous, straight black hair. Now it's pure white, whiter than mine. Guess that's part of being a true Lyons. We all got that preemie white. Except she still looks only 40, even though she no longer has 4's in her age. Her white hair is stylishly cool and awesome. It's her crown of glory.

Reneé stands regally at 5'10" and moves like a dancer. She flows. Reneé gave birth seven times, and all the "kids" tower over me too. Well, I suppose the 11 year old still looks me level in the eye, but it's been awhile... who knows?

Reneé is now, and forever will be one of my dearest friends. We live over 1000 miles apart and have little time together, but it's there. That connection. We can walk into a room after months and months apart and pick up the conversation without missing a beat. We know the buttons to push, the buttons to never push. She saw me through my cancer 11 years ago. I was with her through her own son's cancer and passing. She'll be with me when the day comes for my own final call.

Reneé is my sister, my friend. I love her completely. And missing her birthday will be forgiven, I'm sure, because she loves me too.