Happy Birthday, Kath

My very lovely sister Kathleen turns a new age today. (It’s not my decision whether or not she wants anyone to know how old she is, and I’m no fool.) She has been very, very supportive of my writing for years now in both practical and emotional ways.
One night, a long time ago, when we were sharing an apartment (read: I was living in her apt), I wrote a short piece about my parents, in honor of their anniversary, and left it for her when I went to bed at whatever godforsaken hour I did. She worked for a bank most of her life, and got it when she woke up a few hours later. When I saw her next, she was holding it in her hand, kind of gesticulating with the pages, and said, “So you just sat down and wrote this, just like that?” I shook my head yes and watched as the lightbulb went off over her head; I’m not sure in all of her years of banking it had ever occurred to her that someone would sit down and write a short story for no reason whatsoever.
It was like our own sororal cultural exchange: not too much later, she sat me down and taught me how to write a budget. As it turns out I’m excellent at writing them; it’s keeping to them that’s the tricky part.
But a very happy birthday to you, Kath!