The first 4th of July as my sister's parent

I’ve never been the patriotic type. My parents have always sat on opposite ends of the political spectrum, and I’ve always thought that the concept of being American meant that I lived in a place with a lot of people with opposite opinions who were trying to figure out a way to compromise. And I also noticed from a young age that often compromise didn’t seem to mean ACTUALLY compromising - the more popular people with more money usually seemed to get their way more often. Obviously now as an adult living in this country, I’m aware now more than ever of how true that is.

It feels impossible sometimes, as someone with a smart phone and regular Internet access, to find any escape from terrifying updates about the place we live in. I find political news on the same platform that I flip through photos of our cousin’s family reunion. I RSVP to a friend’s birthday party and scroll past memes about the most recent presidential debate. I’ve had my news app notifications completely turned off and the app itself hidden in the very back folder of my iPhone for over 3 years now, but it took me awhile to get to that point. I’ve always tried to remind myself that it’s important to stay informed, especially with the privilege I have; it’s actually my responsibility to at the very least understand what’s going on and use my voice whenever possible to stand up for those who are suffering. I tell myself that the more dire things seem to get, the more important it is to tune into all of it. I still find myself pausing to read every article I can, still trying to do my duty to fully take in even the worst parts of our reality, no matter how intense and scary it can feel. 

But here’s MY reality - I stepped in as a solo parent to my younger sister about a year ago. My journey to parenthood has been VERY different than most of the moms in my life, and the transition was very sudden. I have known my sister for all of her 22 years of life, but now I suddenly needed to be responsible for her in a way I never had to before. 

And though I’ve heard it from other women over and over, I know it to be true now more than ever:

There is absolutely nothing that makes everything else in this world stop spinning faster than becoming a parent. No matter what that journey looks like.

Your world revolves around trying to remind yourself that you’re now making sure TWO people stay fed. 

You need to buy clothes for two people, and will go through more toilet paper than you ever have in your life. 

You think of your future, but you think of how it will walk right next to theirs. 

And on nights where you sleep under different roofs, your last thought before falling asleep and first after waking up are usually about where they are, what they’re doing, if they’re safe. 

Your world becomes a person wide. Even though I still don’t know how to answer when someone asks me if I’m a mom, I know without a shadow of a doubt that that person, for me, is my sister.

And on top of this, I was raised with the understanding that the world is not built for people like my sister, who think differently and need to learn things in a different way. I’m very aware that there are battles we have and will have to fight for her that she will, thankfully, never understand. My mother always used to say, after going through a particularly tough chapter with my sister’s education: “—but thank god your sister will always wake up happy.” I never understood it back then - my sister experiences the same emotions that everyone else does, and let’s just say that, as her older sister, I knew allllll too well of a few times times she was anything BUT happy. But now, I see exactly what my mother meant.

On the days when the world seems the heaviest to carry, my sister asks me to play Happy Tappin’ with Elmo in the car on the way home from Walmart. I hesitate to click “confirm” on the monthly payment on my staggering student loan, and she skips into the room in her plastic firefighter hat to remind me how pretty the moon is at night (it’s 10am on a Saturday morning). 

This year, it has felt especially surreal to take in the typical patriotic displays and star spangled ads while also navigating a world that, for many people in our generation, feels enormous and unsteady at best. And for people like my sister, it’s also a world that was never built to accommodate them in the first place. 

But yet, for the past several months, and several times a day, she tells me about how excited she is to go to the fireworks, and asks if we can have a picnic with McDonald’s before it starts, like we did last year. She tells me how excited she is to ride the merry-go-round at the town festival, and reminds me that she wants to play the dart game. She excitedly watches clips of people singing the national anthem on YouTube, and carefully picks out her Fourth of July accessories at Party City, trying to figure out how to convince me to buy her a sparkly red, white, and blue cowboy hat.

I watch her face light up, and though I know she will never understand the true depth of the reality we live in, where sometimes it feels like we do nothing but tread water that’s WAY over our heads - in those moments, even for a minute, I make the decision to let go. 

I tell her that I’d like to ride the ferris wheel, and ask her if she thinks they’ll have the elephant ride we rode last year. I tell her that I can’t wait to see the pictures and videos she takes of all the excitement, and remind her that we need to pack her headphones for the fireworks. For just a little while, I step completely into her world and spin on her axis for awhile. 

And though my journey to parenthood has been very sudden and can be chaotic, it’s moments like those where I realize how much viewing the world through her eyes is more healing than I ever could’ve imagined.