It was Monday July 16, 1990. I was 10, my sister was 9. It was a hot summer day and Mary and I had been staying at our grandparent’s house for awhile. They lived quite a drive away from where we lived, and we were having a real adventure: staying with Gramma and Grampa for 11 days. One day while Gramma and Grampa went to town to run errands, Mary and I decided to surprise them by doing the dishes and cleaning our room-the guest room. Mary started cleaning the room while I began doing the dishes. We got in a fight about who was going to hang up the clothes. We were both of the opinion that the other one should obviously do it, and neither of us were going to give in. I don’t remember exactly how the argument went, but we were both getting pretty frustrated and mean. So I yelled from the kitchen a phrase that I knew would make my sister’s blood boil, “NEENER, NEENER, NEEE-NERR!” She responded by marching into the kitchen and slugging me in the arm. Man it hurt! She went back to the room to clean and I came up with a brilliant plan. “NEENER, NEENER, NEEE-NERR!” I yelled once again. This time when she came marching into the kitchen, I was ready. I threw a cup full of dishwater right in her face. I was so pleased with myself, that I didn’t even catch her when she dipped a cup into the sink and threw water on me. She was out of the kitchen in a flash, and I was fuming mad. I couldn’t even believe how mean she was! It just wasn’t fair! “I shouldn’t have to hang up the clothes if she’s supposed to be cleaning the room!” I thought. I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I was getting outta there. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note to my sister: Mary- Goodbye forever! NEENER, NEENER, NEENER!”
The next time she came into the kitchen, I shoved the note in her face and left. I stomped out the front door without even bothering to put on a pair of shoes. I stomped off the porch, and I stomped across two weedy, thorny fields. And as I stomped, I thought of how dumb my little sister was, and how mad I was, and then of how itchy, sore and hot my feet were beginning to feel. Finally I walked out to the dirt road, and there I met Mary. She had brought me a pair of shoes. I had just been thinking of how dumb, and annoying, and rude she was, and there she stood with a pair of shoes for me. How could I stay mad at a sister as loving as that? She handed me the shoes, turned around and walked back to the house. I followed. She wasn’t wearing shoes. When we both got inside we washed each other’s feet. We didn’t speak, we just washed. I guess it was our way of apologizing to each other. Afterwards, we finished cleaning the room and doing the dishes together. We didn’t even fight. As a matter of fact, we got along very well for the rest of the day.