I was born only five minutes before my little sister.
Yet she was prettier than me, fairer than me, smarter than me.
The only thing I had ever beaten her at was being healthy.
I could roll around in the mud throwing a tantrum and still not get sick.
My sister, though, was allergic to pollen in spring, mosquito bites in summer, and cold air in autumn and winter.
When I was nine, all I did was pet a stray cat.
My sister said she felt so awful she could not breathe.
That day, Mom beat me half to death.
With red-rimmed eyes, she asked me, “Were you trying to kill your sister?”
“If she dies, you’ll be the only child in this family!”
So later, Mom sent me to live in a nursing home.
She said it very seriously: “This way, your sister will be the only child in the family.”
