Always Consider the Heart

 (Originally written June 26, 2010)

"Do you think these clothes just magically pick themselves up off the floor and walk to the closet, young lady? What do I look like? Your personal maid?"

Oh, no! I was turning into my mother, and no one at 11490 Trails End was happy about that.

It was the summer of 1978, and I was renting a quaint little cottage on the banks of White River in Fishers, Indiana, when I suggested to my parents that my sister, Lynnette, move in with me. She was going to school to become an artist, accountant, or arborist.  She hadn't made up her mind yet and her eenie meenie miny moeing was creating tension at home. The plan was for me to help their eighteen-year-old daughter catch that elusive tiger by the tail and focus on one specific career.

She went through all the A's and then the B's before settling on an occupation in the C's. Dad was hoping she would go as far as the D's and become a doctor, and Mother had her heart set on the letter M, as in Married with Children. But Lynnette wasn't listening to her parents, and it was becoming quite clear that this headstrong Taurus, no matter where she lived, would follow her own agenda.

"I guess you haven't met Mr. Sponge and Mrs. Dawn yet," I said one day when she walked into the kitchen and caught me cursing at a sink full of dirty dishes. "Do you think that these dishes will magically wash themselves and then climb back up into the cabinets? What do I look like? Your personal maid?"

Oh, my! Not only had I become my mother, but I had borrowed the record that she used to play for me, and I was now playing it for my sister. I was supposed to be a positive influence and a role model, but instead I was a nag and a not-so-nice nag at that.

What made nagging at my sister difficult were those big innocent eyes that appeared to say, "What did I do, Sissy? I'm sorry. I'll do better. I promise." Errrrrrr! How can you be mad at Bambi? Oh, trust me, I managed to find a way.

"How nice! A dark brown ring around the tub? Was Bambi taking a bath today? What am I now, the baby doe's personal maid?"

One day, while I was being particularly rough on my sister, it hit me. Did she mean to track mud on the carpet and burn a hole in my favorite blouse? Did she leave the knee-high pile of dirty clothes in the hallway just for spite? The dried up macaroni and cheese container stuck between the sofa cushions...was that left there on purpose to aggravate me? When she and her boyfriend backed out of the driveway and ran over my 1962 mint-condition MG Midget, was she testing me? Were her actions malicious and mean-spirited, or was she just simply being eighteen and, duh, clueless?

It was the uncontrollable sobbing that finally got to me. Was I being too hard on my little sister? Should I have taken a more gentle approach? Did she need more time to mature into a responsible adult? Did I need to give her some slack? It does make perfect sense that before we get angry and spew hurtful words, we should always consider the heart. My sister was a sweet girl with an innocent heart; she was not guilty of malfeasance, only immaturity. But, even with this realization and new-found clarity, I still could not stop crying. So I moved out.